Misguided Hearts
by woodwindbandgeek0830
Summary: In a world where to find your soul mate, two people must find their perfect matches by listening to-and looking at-their hearts. However, two unlikely people find that their lives will be changed forever thanks to this method of finding true love. High School AU Nerd!Marco Jock!Jean; JeanMarco; FULL SUMMARY IN INTRODUCTION. Rated M for language and events in later chapters.
1. Introduction

**Just a little Introduction here to explain the plot.**

This fanfiction is based off of the use of a picture prompt. The original picture is by Emmy Cicierega on tumblr.

Source: emmyc. tumblr post/28881703056

Also based off of this idea: satinhands. tumblr post/75936452842/plankt0n-lost-moonlight-imagine-though-whe

(links without the spaces, obviously)

I saw these along with a comic strip drawn by zakuro-san on tumblr (also based on the original art), and I couldn't help but love the idea. So I give credit to this idea to these lovely users for the birth of this story.

Plus, for those of you that have been reading my fanfiction _Silenced Screams_, this shows that my writing is not entirely cruel or heartless...for the most part.

* * *

**Official Summary**

When you find your soul mate and look into each other's eyes, your heart starts to glow. That shows that you two are meant to be. The process of finding your perfect match starts at the age of seventeen, but for these two lovely dorks that go to Trost High School, finding that perfect match was not easy.

Marco Bodt is a smart (slightly defenseless) "nerd," and Jean is an athletic but notorious bully that beats him up every day. Jean has not shown interest in finding his perfect match ever since his birthday, and Marco wishes not to be involved in such an affair because he does not agree with the idea of soul searching this way. However, when they finally look into each other's eyes and find that they are indeed deemed perfect matches, they have no idea how to handle with the situation.


	2. Chapter 1

**And so it begins. Here is the first chapter of Misguided Hearts. I will have the points of view going back and forth. Jean's POV is the odd chapters, and the even chapters are Marco's POV. I hope that you enjoy this fanfiction that has been pre-approved by fellow Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan fans.**

* * *

–Jean's POV-

_So, this is what it's like _to be seventeen. To Jean, it was just like any other coming of age. The only difference was that he got a license and a new car. He turned seventeen in mid-April, and his birthday wasn't that fantastic. And since then he basically had shown he was indifferent about the fact that he was at a mature age. His parents let him throw a huge party for Labour Day weekend, though, and it was supposed to be the party of the decade to his high school class.

Jean Kirschtein was a captain of the football team; his position being a linebacker. Sure, he was not as tall as Bertholdt Fubar or as brawny or lunky as Reiner Braun, but all three of them deserved their positions on the team due to their physical strength and advantages.

Everyone was so excited once Jean had turn seventeen almost five months ago, mainly the girls. However, Jean still remained indifferent. This was a shock to many people, especially his parents. The reason why turning seventeen was crucial was because it was the year he could start his "soul searching."

Years ago, a method of finding that true love was experimented on and deemed one-hundred percent successful. Inside every person's heart, there were natural hormones that ignited when in contact with a perfect match, causing the heart to glow. This turned into the end of heartbreak and loneliness. Once a person turned seventeen, these hormones have successfully matured and have the full effect when in contact with a perfect match, or "soul mate."

However, not once did he get the full effect. He had been to the doctors a few times because his parents dragged him there, but they said that he was fine. He just needed more time to find the "special someone," since apparently it doesn't always happen right away like with most people. Jean just figured that if a sexy lady that was supposed to be the "love of his life" came up to him, his and her hearts would start to glow once given eye contact. But no, that did not happen.

For right now, he was just sticking to being young and stupid. That was his motive for senior year. This was his last year of high school, and he was set on making this the best year of his life.

At his party, the music was blaring with tasteless hip-hop. He never cared for the genre, but he played it during his parties since that was the main stream. Almost the entire incoming senior class was there. They dance, dank, and tried attempting to sneak into one of the bedrooms to make out. But Jean knew better and had every room's door locked before the party (good thing he had the keys for every door).

"Jean!" one of the kids at the party—specifically Connie—called out. "Where's the food?"

Jean glanced around. "It should be out on the patio outside."

"False!" he replied. "All the burgers are gone."

"Shit!" he muttered. "That was supposed to feed over a hundred people!"

"Well, Sasha kept coming back to the table."

"Dammit." Jean thought for a moment. "Are the drinks gone, too?"

"Nah, they're still here. Reiner brought a whole extra cooler."

"Ah, Reiner," Jean smirked, "always coming through for us. Well, I'll order some pizza, then."

"Hey." Reiner had their full attention once hearing about the coolers. "Doesn't that stupid nerd work at the pizza parlor down the road?"

"Who, Marco?"

"Yep," Connie answered for Jean. "And Armin, too."

"Hey, we could have some fun with this," Reiner smirked. "Let's prank call them in the process."

"Yeah," Jean nodded and laughed.

"Guys, don't," Bertholdt mumbled slightly. "They are trying to do their job."

"So?" Reiner retorted. "Let's have some fun."

Most of the people at the party were outside near the pool, so Jean turned the music down inside.

"Guys, here we go." Jean took out his phone. "I'll put it on speaker."

"You guys are so stupid," Annie mumbled as they were calling the pizza parlor.

After a moment, the room was silenced when the victim of the call answered.

"Hello, this is Amore Pizza. What would you like today?"

"I would like for you to bend over," Jean replied cockily, in which everyone tried holding back their laughter.

There was a long sigh on the other end. "Kirschtein… That's not exactly what I meant."

"Marco, I have this huge party that _you're_ not invited to, and we're fucking starving."

"Okay?" A sarcastic mumble in response. "I'm not entirely upset by that. Are you going to order or not?"

"Don't get nasty," Jean muttered. "I want five pies: two with sausage and onions, two with pepperoni, and one with everything on it with extra anchovies."

"Anchovies are disgusting," Connie muttered under his breath, and Sasha responded by elbowing his stomach to keep him quiet.

There was a pause.

"All right." The caller sounded like he was indifferent. "That will be fifty-four dollars and seven cents."

"The fuck?" Jean retorted. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Hold on," Reiner then mumbled. "I got this." He took the phone from Jean. "Hey, how about I can pay you in another way?"

"Does that way involve credit?" came the smart remark on the other end. "Because you have to come to the parlor if you want to put your payment on credit."

"Naïve little bastard," he muttered. "I meant that I can _give_ you a good time. Five minutes in exchange for those measly fifty-four dollars and seven cents."

"Reiner!" Bertholdt gasped, his neck perspiring slightly.

"Relax," he mumbled in response. Not even three seconds later, Marco replied.

"To set your little willy free will most definitely rock my world, _after_ I throw up."

The "audience" around the house was getting excited at hearing this conversation. Reiner's eyes narrowed.

"You little shit—"

"Give me that," Jean muttered and took his phone back. "Listen here, how about you take that fifty-four and shove it?"

"You'll have to kiss my freckled ass first. And you'll still need to pay seven extra cents."

That tied it over.

"You asshole!" Jean muttered.

"It's fifty-four and seven, or your order is cancelled. I am not some skank that will take any payment that would cause me to lose my job. Do what you want when we go back to school. This is real life, Jean Kirschtein. You either have to deal with your responsibilities or get fucked."

Then the room was absolutely silent for a few seconds.

"You will pay for that," Jean seethed.

"After you pay for your order."

"Fine!" he exclaimed. "I'll pay for it, okay?"

"A pleasure doing business with you," the voice on the other end responded shakily. "Bodt out."

Then the line went dead. The room was silent once again.

"I'm kicking his ass," he finally muttered.

Reiner glanced at Bertholdt. "Do I have a little willy?"

"Don't ask me that," he muttered.

"Well, now that you've thoroughly humiliated yourselves, let's just turn the music back on," Annie muttered.

"Oh yeah," Connie nodded slightly. "The music."

Everyone stayed where they were.

"Well, don't everybody get up all at once," she sighed and then went over to the speaker and turned the music up.

It did not take long for the party to be in full swing again.

"Well, that sucked," Jean finally decided once the party was over. He was still cleaning up, and he was fifty-four dollars and seven cents poorer.

He went up to so many girls at his party, just to test the whole chest thing that never seemed to work. And lo and behold, it still didn't work.

_Oh well,_ he thought. _It's not like it's important._

"Jean."

He glanced up and looked over at his parents. "What?"

"We reported that boy who made those bad comments when you ordered the pizza," his father sighed. "He's losing his job there."

"Good riddance," he muttered as he finished cleaning.

"Here's your money back too. The manager gave us a refund. "His mother handed him a check.

"Great," he smirked and put the check in his pocket. "Thanks."

Jean's parents then went in the kitchen.

"So, did you meet a few girls at the party?"

"I knew all of them already, dad," he muttered. "And no, my chest did not do the stupid glowy thingy."

"Oh," his mother sighed in disappointment. "Well, it will just take more time to find that special someone."

"Yeah, yeah," Jean mumbled and then went upstairs. "I have to get to bed now so I don't miss the bus tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it now that you have a car," his father chided.

"Yep," he nodded quietly. "Forgot about that."

Jean had then taken a shower before going to his room to sleep. He tried thinking for a minute.

That guy that answered the phone at the pizza parlor was Marco Bodt. He was the smartest kid in the senior class, and also the oldest. For some reason he stayed back a year since he turned eighteen in June.

Either way, that guy was a loser. Nobody liked him—well, no one _popular_, that is. He and Reiner picked on him all the time, and Bertholdt was pretty much forced to tag along after he started dating Reiner. And by God, did Jean love to tease the poor bastard.

For some reason though, he seemed to have mustered up some courage and stupidity to tell him off today. He still had no idea what the hell that was about. Marco was going to pay for it on Tuesday, though. That was the day that it all begins.

_He will pay for what he did, _he thought to himself before slowly falling asleep.

The last day of summer officially ended.

* * *

**What? Marco told off both Jean and Reiner? You go, boy? As I said, he is ****_slightly_**** defenseless. He has his way with words.**

**The whole plot behind the phone call will be in the next chapter.**


	3. Chapter 2

**And so, now we go to Marco's POV. So, why does he not approve of the idea of finding the perfect match? You will find out in this chapter.**

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–Marco's POV-

_"Bodt!"_

_"Shit," Marco tensed when hearing _his boss holler from his office. He quickly glanced at Armin. "I'm getting fired, am I?"

"Most likely," Armin sighed as he was cleaning the kitchen for closing time.

"Dammit," he whimpered, "my dad is going to kill me."

"Just tell the boss what really happened," Armin insisted.

"Neither of them will believe me."

What really happened during the phone all was difficult for them to explain, only because it was pretty lengthy. Marco, Armin, Ymir, and Christa all worked together at the parlor. Occasionally they would get nasty prank calls from the other kids at school. They started not to care after a while. However, the calls were progressively getting worse, especially if Reiner or Jean would call. They were the worst.

Then they heard the phone ring while they were on shift. Marco sighed, since he was the one in charge of answering the phone that day.

"How much do you want to bet that it's Jean?" Ymir muttered.

"Ymir, no gambling," Christa sighed and glanced at Armin.

"Just answer the phone, Marco," he assured him.

Marco reluctantly went up to the phone and answered it.

"Hello, this is Amore Pizza," he mumbled since he memorized the script. "What would you like today?"

"I would like for you to bend over."

Marco quickly tensed up at hearing the voice. He knew that voice very well. It was Jean Kirschtein. For over ten years, his mission was to try and make Marco's life a living hell. Well, mission accomplished.

He sighed heavily to try and get rid of his tension. "Kirschtein… That's not exactly what I meant."

"Knew it," Ymir mumbled.

Armin and Ymir moved closer to the phone so that they could listen. Christa stayed in the kitchen and was busy finishing a recently made order.

"Marco," Jean continued over the phone. "I have this huge party that _you're_ not invited to, and we're fucking starving."

"Asshole," Ymir spat.

"Hey," Armin suddenly offered, "Marco, you should sound sarcastic."

"Are you crazy?" Marco gasped as he moved the phone away. "I could lose my job!"

"Hey, he deserves it," Ymir added.

"I-I guess." Marco cleared his throat before talking on the phone again. "Okay? I'm not entirely upset by that. Are you going to order or not?"

"Hey, those acting lessons really paid off," Ymir commented.

"Shh!" he hissed, really tense as he held the phone to his ear.

"Don't get nasty," came the bully's reply. "I want five pies: two with sausage and onions, two with pepperoni, and one with everything on it and extra anchovies."

"You got that?" Marco whispered to Armin.

"Yep." He had a notepad and was quickly writing down the calculations to the well-memorized prices. The short blonde was a math genius and could solve most math problems without breaking a sweat.

"Okay," Armin then stated, "it's fifty-four dollars."

"Add seven cents to piss him off," Ymir smirked.

"That's crazy," Marco muttered but just nodded. "All right—"

"Still be sarcastic," she interrupted.

Marco rolled his eyes but kept the previous tone of voice. "That will be fifty-four dollars and seven cents."

"Nice," Ymir chided.

"The fuck?" Jean muttered on the other end. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Told you it'd piss him off," she snorted.

"But that's not right," Marco sighed before continuing to listen to the customer. "No one's there at the moment." But as soon as he made that assumption he quickly tensed up.

"Hey, how about I can pay you in another way?"

Reiner Braun.

It was true that Jean has and continues to bully Marco for years, but Reiner was much worse. He was more brutal and more demeaning.

Ymire noticed Marco's tension. "Hey, keep going. Ask about credit to agitate him."

Marco was hesitant but nodded slightly. "Does that involve credit? Because you have to come to the parlor if you want to put your payment on credit."

"Not bad," Armin mused.

"Guys, you'll get Marco in trouble," Christa called over from where she was giving the finished orders to the customer at the cash register.

"Hey, it's okay," Armin insisted. "The boss knows these guys are no good, so this could count as self-defense.

Both of them went silent when seeing the colour fade from Marco's face. He heard Reiner's next reply.

"Naïve little bastard. I meant that I can _give _you a good time. Five minutes in exchange for those measly fifty-four dollars and seven cents."

Marco was really scared now.

"Marco, look at me," Ymir assured him. "Stay cool. Make an offensive comment on the size of his dick. Jocks hate when people say their dick is tiny."

His eyes showed his fear, but he nodded as he kept his voice sounding as sarcastic as possible.

"To set your little willy free will most definitely rock my world, _after_ I throw up."

He heard stifled laughter in the background, and his eyes were wide.

"Oh, my God!" he mouthed.

"That was pretty good," Ymir mused. "The whole throwing up comment was a little unnecessary, though. But good job."

"This is insane," he panicked silently.

"You're doing great," she assured him.

He heard Reiner call him a little shit and Jean then had taken the phone from him.

"Listen here, how about you take that fifty-four and shove it?

"You'll have to kiss my freckled ass first. And you'll still need to pay seven extra cents." Marco was startled by his own comment, but he was so deep in "character" that he continued playing the role of the sarcastic douchebag. He did not like this one bit.

"You asshole!" Jean exclaimed.

Marco did not stop there, because all of this just so happened to be on his mind.

"It's fifty-four and seven or your order is cancelled. I am not some skank that will take any payment that would cause me to lose my job. Do what you want when we go back to school. This is real life, Jean Kirschtein. You either have to deal with your responsibilities or get fucked."

Even Ymir was surprised. "Damn, I didn't even tell him to say that."

Marco's hands were shaking as he held the phone.

"You will pay for that," Jean muttered.

"After you pay for your food."

_Oh my God, Marco, stop!_

"Fine! I'll pay for it, okay?"

_Deep breath, Marco, just finish the phone call._

"A pleasure doing business with you," he muttered. "Bodt out."

He practically slammed the phone down on the receiver, panicking. Meanwhile, Ymir gave him a slap on the back.

"I knew you had some balls hidden in those briefs!" she smirked.

"I-I'm going to puke!" Marco gasped and had his hand over his mouth as his forehead was sweating.

"This is a _huge_ milestone," Armin assured him as he moved closer. "Keep that fiery confidence you just had. Hold onto that."

"How about instead, I throw it back up?" he groaned and then quickly went in the bathroom.

The entire rest of the day was spent worrying about what was going to happen to him because of that phone call. He was basically scared shitless. Marco went out of the boss' office in tears. Christa tried comforting him but that was useless.

"They'd might as well set up my tomb stone," Marco muttered. "I'm done for tomorrow… That's if I make it through the night."

Just like he predicted, he had just gotten fired. The pizza parlor was his first job, and he worked here for almost three years. However, his first and only penalty cost him everything. It was all because Jean's family was wealthy and threatened to sue the owner.

"Marco, relax," Christa murmured as she rubbed his back. "It's okay. Don't stress about this too much. Remember, you did a good thing standing up to them."

"But I lost my job," he protested. "My job is more important than my pride."

"Calm down," Ymir said.

"This is _your _fault!" he muttered and looked at her. "Now to make things worse, my execution is tomorrow!"

"Marco, snap out of it," Armin then butted in. "Just face that fear. You do not know what is going to happen, so calm down."

"I would _like_ to know what is going on."

"Come on." Ymir helped him up from the table. "It's closing time. We have to go."

Marco just nodded sullenly. He had returned his uniform earlier.

"But, what about my dad?"

"Marco, just tell him what happened. Say it was my fault."

"You read my mind, Ymir," Marco mumbled as he went outside.

"Trust me," she assured him. "It will be okay."

"If you say so." Marco went into his car. He waved at Armin and Christa from inside before starting the car and driving.

He had his music on the radio blasting to try and clear his thoughts.

_God, I'm a mess. What am I going to do?_

He had an absolutely blemish-free record, but now that he lost his job at the pizza parlor he was afraid that everything would just continue to spiral down and out of proportion. He was in the top ten in his class, and he could not afford to fail. He cannot afford another slip-up.

Unfortunately, his academic record was the least of his problems. It was not just those bullies at school either.

"Marco, relax." He decided to give himself a pep talk as he was driving closer to his house. "You can do this. Just tell him the truth. Maybe he will be in a good mood."

He was always scared to tell his dad bad news. Just the thought of it made him want to cry.

"He thinks I'm useless as it is," he muttered, thinking about his soul searching.

Marco was eighteen, and he still did not find his "soul mate." He was actually infuriated by the fact that this was how you would find who you would spend the rest of your life with. He had his reasons why he felt that way, but he lost his train of thought once pulling up into the driveway.

Marco took a deep breath. "Okay. Here goes nothing."

He turned off the ignition before getting out of the car. He stepped inside the house, but he tensed when looking towards the living room.

"Dad."

Marco's father was sitting on the couch, narrowing his brown eyes. He crossed his large arms and kept quiet for a moment.

"I heard you lost your job," he then muttered.

Marco's face paled. He remembered that his father and now former boss were fairly good friends. He must have told him earlier.

"L-look," he stammered, "dad, let me explain—"

"You told off a customer."

"B-but listen!" he insisted. "It wasn't a good customer. It was one of those jocks at school."

"And that 'jock' comes from a wealthy family." Marco's father stood up and cracked his knuckles. "We could not have afforded to get sued. You're lucky that they only wanted a refund of their order."

"I can look for another job, dad," he assured him. "They still hire at most places after summer vacation is over."

"Nobody would want to hire an asshole who cursed out a customer."

Marco tensed. "W-well, it's worth a shot. But it wasn't my fault in the first place. Ymir was the one who told me to say those things."

"You know that it's rude to blame things on a girl. You see, this is why you can't even _find_ a girl."

He stepped back. "Dad, don't pull that with me again! It will take time. Don't be so harsh about it because of what happened with mom!"

_Shit, there I go again!_

Marco didn't think before he spoke again, just like back at the pizza parlor. This time he knew he went too far. He mentioned his mother. His father gave him a look of death at hearing what he said.

"Just go to bed before I beat the fucking shit out of you! No dinner tonight, either."

"D-dad, I'm sorry…" He trailed off. He decided that he should just listen to him. He went in his room quietly and over to his bed.

This was why he hated how you found your perfect match. Things are wonderful and happy once you find that true love, but then what happens when you lose that love? There is no one else out there with the perfect match. It was just two people out of over nine billion. Once one is gone, the love dies and you spend the rest of your life alone and bitter.

That was what happened with his father. His parents were both soldiers in the Navy. They were perfect for each other. And their lives got even better once Marco was born, even though there was still that cloud of uncertainty that hung over their heads.

However, seven years ago, his mother was killed in action while they were both fighting overseas. His father was never the same, even after he retired. He was once a happy man, but now he was angry, bitter, and even sometimes….

Marco shuddered as he lied down on his bed once he had everything he needed ready for school the next morning. He kept the light in his closet on just to be safe. He didn't want anything happening to him while he slept, and keeping that on usually helped him get startled awake in the middle of the night. As he drifted off to sleep, he had one last thought that ran through his mind.

_Those scientists were all wrong. There is still such thing as heartbreak and loneliness. I live through it every single day._

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**Well, hey, I love angst. Anybody I roleplay with will tell you that. But don't worry, even though the next chapters will still be trying to set the scene for the big event to come, there will be some happy scenes, I promise.**


	4. Chapter 3

**This one is shorter than the other two. The only warning I could really give is that Jean and Reiner are being violent bullies in this scene. But like I said, there are going to be good moments in this story. It's not like ****_Silenced Screams._**

* * *

–Jean's POV-

_The first day of school was _just like any other, except for the fact that most of the girls were crying about the fact that it was their last first day of school. Jean and Reiner had other things on their mind as they went through the halls before homeroom.

"Where's the little shit?" Reiner muttered.

"Dunno," Jean answered as he looked around.

They were looking for Marco Bodt to make him suffer for that stupid phone call the day before. They were going to show him no mercy.

Bertholdt stood next to them and practically towered over them. The 6-foot 3 giant was as gentle as could be, but he was also intimidating thanks to his height. His role in the group was basically to look for the other two's victims.

"There he is," Bertholdt then mumbled and pointed down the hallway.

Marco was walking down the hall with an empty backpack on. His face made him seem nervous, although his freckled cheeks did not have much colour to them. It just looked more like he was up all night. In his hand, he had a glasses case, since he needed them for reading.

"Hey, shithead!" Reiner called out as he moved closer to Marco.

He just looked at him, already knowing what was coming but still scared. "H-here to defend your little—"

"Don't even try it!" he glared as he punched him hard in his stomach.

That caused the poor boy to double over. Jean moved closer and smirked.

"You know, I got my money back," he muttered and then shoved him into the lockers. "What are you going to say about that?"

Marco flinched and kept his head down. "N-nothing, Jean."

Jean went and punched his face. "By the way, I wouldn't place my lips anywhere on your ugly body."

The freckled teen froze when hearing him and winced, and he wrapped his arms around himself.

"This is why you're not with anyone. You look like a piece of shit, and no girl would ever love you."

Marco swallowed thickly before speaking. "I-if I'm not mistaken… N-no one wants to be with you either."

Jean glared at him and shoved him down to the floor as Marco bit back a cry. There were people surrounding them, but none of them did anything for him. Most of them were cheering Jean and Reiner on.

"Reiner, stop!" Bertholdt pulled him back just as he and Jean were starting to kick Marco. "This is going too far."

"Damit," Reiner muttered. "We were just having fun, too."

Jean was still kicking Marco though, smirking as the weaker was writhing in pain. Marco's mind was focused on something else though as he felt Jean trying to break his bones. He has felt worse hits, so this was nothing, really.

Ymir then came to Marco's rescue. She quickly pulled Jean away from him and shoved him away.

"Fuck off, okay?" she muttered. "It's only the first day. Give him a break!"

Jean glared at her. "He asked for it by saying what he did!"

"If you want to take your anger out on somebody for that, take it out on me. It was my idea, not his."

Jean stepped back. "You know that I can't hit girls."

"then I suggest that you get your ass back to homeroom."

"Fucking Christ," he muttered before starting to head the opposite direction to his homeroom. Reiner followed him quietly.

"That bitch is going to pay for that," Reiner muttered.

"It is not your battle anymore," Bertholdt reminded.

Annie eventually joined their group and looked at them.

"I heard you guys beat the shit out of Marco," she mumbled. "We didn't even get our schedules yet, and he is in the nurse's office."

"Isn't it great?" Reiner smirked.

"You're an asshole."

Jean shrugged at hearing Annie. "It was his fault."

"But Ymir said that it was actually her fault," Bertholdt interrupted. He glanced at Reiner. "Sometimes I wonder why we're perfect matches."

"Hey, it's not our fault," he assured him. "Besides, you know exactly why."

"Whatever," he sighed.

Jean just listened to them. Sometimes he felt like he was very out of place in this group. But he had been friends with Reiner and Bertholdt ever since he moved to Trost when they were in kindergarten, and they all started football together. Now they were one of the coolest kids in school. But still, Jean did not feel like he belonged here.

"Hey, looks like we have homeroom together." Reiner then took Jean out of his thoughts.

Jean glanced at him and nodded. "Yep." He got his schedule from his teacher. "It also looks like we only have a couple of classes together."

"Let me see that," Reiner muttered as Annie and Bertholdt went to their own homerooms. The two of them looked at their schedules to compare.

**Jean Kirschtein**** – HR109**

**1 – Study Hall – R109**

**2 – Theatre Arts – R51**

**3 – CP Physics – R29**

**4 – Gym/Health**

**5 – Lunch – CAFE**

**6 – AP English – R210**

**7 – Pre-Calculus Honors – R31**

**8 – Early Leave**

**Reiner Braun**** – ****HR109**

**1 – Study Hall – R109**

**2 – CP US History II – R09**

**3 – CP Physics – R29**

**4 – Gym/Health**

**5 – CP Pre-Calculus – R31**

**6 – Lunch – CAFE**

**7 – CP English – R212**

**8 – Early Leave**

"Well, that sucks," Reiner grunted. "Why did you put down AP English and Honors math?"

Jean shrugged. "Guidance counselor said that it would help boost my GPA. I told her no, but I guess she made a mistake. You would've had an extra period if you didn't fail history last year."

"It's not my fault that the teacher made me fall asleep every day," he mumbled.

He sighed and sat down in a chair. "At least we have this class, science, and gym together."

"True," he nodded as he sat down as well. "I worked out a new resolution for this year. I want to go a whole year without getting suspended."

"Good luck with that," Jean snorted as he sat back in his seat. He completely forgot about what happened a few minutes earlier with Marco. It wasn't that important, anyways.

The only thought going through his mind was that this was going to be a good year.

* * *

**Yep, Jean is in some smart classes. But why? /shrugs**

**Mystery~**

**By the way, I imagine the high school being rather large, with all the double digit rooms in older sections of the building, the 100s being around the first floor, and the 200s on the second floor. Just explaining so that you can get an idea of what the school looks like in your head.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Now the school year officially begins.**

**Side note: I made it so that at Trost High School, Erwin, Nile, and Pixis are all administrators. They are too competitive when it came to who was the principal, so they are all referred to as Principal Smith, Principal Pixis, and Principal Dok.**

* * *

–Marco's POV-

_Marco stayed at the nurse's office_ after the fight. He was lying down and had ice on his stomach and face.

"Not even homeroom yet, and you're already hurt," she mumbled as she was going through paperwork.

"S-sorry," he rasped as he looked down. "Y-you know how clumsy I am."

"Just get to class once you can stand on your feet."

"Y-yep."

There was a knock on the door before a familiar, friendly face came in.

"Are you okay, Marco?" Armin asked as he moved closer.

"I-I will be," he assured him. "I-I just hope that I don't see Jean or Reiner a lot during the school year. I don't know how much I'd be able to handle."

"I believe you can do it." He then handed him a paper. "Principal Pixis told me to give you your schedule."

"Thanks," Marco sighed and then read it quietly.

**Marco Bodt**** – HR71**

**1 – French IV – R71**

**2 – Theatre Arts – R51**

**3 – CP Physics – R29**

**4 – Gym/Health**

**5 – Lunch – CAFE**

**6 – AP English – R210**

**7 – Pre-Calculus Honors – R31**

**8 – AP History – R110**

"Not bad," he admitted. "I like my schedule. Let me see yours."

Armin nodded and handed him his schedule so that he could read it.

**Armin Arlert**** – HR71**

**1 – French IV – R71**

**2 – Psychology – R120**

**3 – Gym/Health**

**4 – AP Physics – R35**

**5 – Lunch – CAFE**

**6 – AP English – R210**

**7 – AP Calculus – R33**

**8 – AP History – R110**

"At least we have a few classes together," Marco mused. "Now I can copy off your homework."

"Very funny," Armin chuckled.

"So, how's Levi in the morning?"

Their French teacher had impacted their learning experience so much, and since they were so close and the best students, they had the privilege of calling Levi by his first name. However they would have to call him by Heichou if he was in a bad mood.

"Grumpy," he smiled. "But he means well."

"I trust him more than I trust my guidance counselor," he confessed.

"Who would trust them?"

"G-good point," he sputtered as he laughed.

Having a friend with him always helped him get through the pain. He now felt a lot better.

"I-I'd better go and see him now," he sighed as he slowly got up.

"Do you need help?" Armin offered.

"No thanks," he assured him. "L-last night was worse."

He glanced at him. "What happened? Was your dad mad when you told him?"

"H-he already knew," he sighed as they were walking to homeroom. "The boss already called him. He was pissed."

"We're sorry, Marco." Armin bit his lip. "It's our fault."

"I-it's okay," he assured him dryly. "You didn't know I would get into that much trouble."

The entire class period was spent speaking only in French once they got to homeroom. Of course they both needed time to refresh their memories, but they already knew how Levi taught. When the bell rang, they both had to go their separate ways.

"Good luck," Armin sighed. "I'll see you at lunch."

"Okay," he nodded and then went to his next class.

Those bruises he had all over his body had a dull pain, but he ignored it as he was heading to the Theatre Arts room. Once finding it he stayed standing in the room. He saw quite a few theatre kids he knew and was slightly comforted, even though none of them every really talked to him, except for Christa.

"Nice," she smiled when seeing him. "We have a class together!"

"Yep," Marco nodded.

"Wow, what happened to your face?" she gasped.

He shifted slightly and lowered his head. He developed a black eye from Jean's beating. "J-jean and Reiner beat me up before homeroom."

"Oh." She hugged Marco gently. "I'm sorry. Let's just hope we don't see them for a long while."

"Yeah," he sighed and looked around.

They spoke too soon. The last straggler came in, and Marco felt his heart jump to his throat.

"Jean Kirschtein," the teacher murmured. "I was indeed expecting that you would be here… late."

"Yeah, well my last class was all the way down the eastern wing," he mumbled.

Marco avoided eye contact at all cost.

"W-why?" he whimpered silently. "W-why does he have to torture me so much?"

"Calm down, Marco," Christa whispered. "Who knows, he might drop this class."

"Y-you're right," he sighed but kept his head down.

"Ugh, I have a class with shitface," Jean groaned as he sat down as far away from Marco as possible.

_At least he respects my boundaries._

"Welcome, seniors," the teacher then began. "I am Ms. Zoe, but please, call me Hanji. My goal is to get you guys in touch with your inner persona. Everyone is different, so they have different acting styles and interpretations."

"She seems nice," Marco whispered to Christa.

She nodded. "She is. She lives across the street from me. She is a little crazy, but in a good way."

Hanji then spoke again. "We have a pretty small class of seniors this year. However, don't get discouraged. At Theatre Arts, everyone is family. Think of me as Mother Goose, and you guys are my awkward, adoptive gosling children."

"You're a goose, all right," someone snickered in the back.

The comment caught her attention. "Young man, what's your name?"

The boy glanced up. "Connie Springer."

"Connie," she mused. "I see you like calling me Mother Goose. So in exchange, I shall call you Egghead."

"What?!" he exclaimed.

"You asked for it," she chuckled. Then she looked around the room. "I have a syllabus on each of your desks. You guys are old enough to read them on your own."

And so they did. Marco was very interested in the acting projects and script analysis.

"I believe that the goal really is to find your medium when it comes to theatre," Marco murmured.

Christa glanced at him. "Is that so?"

He nodded. "There are projects for people who like reading and writing scripts, and there are solo and group acting projects. And of course, there are units where we learn about different genres."

"Hanji says here that she developed her own curriculum for this class."

"Yep," he continued reading. "But I don't think I will have much confidence if…_he _is here."

"Don't worry," Christa assured him. "He probably will do nothing in this class and eventually drop it."

As the period was coming to a close, Marco started getting his things together. "I'll see you later."

Christa nodded and then left once the bell rang. Marco quickly ran out of the room to try and avoid Jean. He was getting really nervous as he tried finding the room his physics class was in. He made sure to get a seat in the back of the classroom once in there.

But then that was when more trouble came. This class was not any better. Not only was Jean in here as well, but so was Reiner Braun and Annie Leonhardt. Annie never really physically harmed him, but she could be over-the-top whenever it came to things like gym and head-to-head combat. He made sure to _never_ make her mad, so she was like a neutral buffer between him and the two jocks.

It just got worse in gym. Those three, Mikasa Ackerman, Eren Jaeger, and Bertholdt Fubar were here. Connie Springer and Sasha Blaus were not too mean to him, but they still tried making fun of him.

Thank God for lunch, though. Once Gym was over he went into the cafeteria. All of his friends were here, and he was so relieved. However, Jean had the same lunch period as well.

Marco did everything to protect his lunch after paying for it, but the only thing he was able to save was bottled water and a bag of chips, because Jean knocked his tray out of his hand. Marco avoided eye contact with him still.

Thankfully, Armin, Christa, and Ymir saved him a seat at a round table in the back of the lunch room.

"Do you want some of my food?" Ymir asked.

Marco shook his head. "I'm fine. I'll be okay with just my chips and water."

His friends were unsure about that, but they left him alone. They ate in silence for a few moments.

"Jean is in every since class so far," Marco stuttered. "I'm just glad we don't have the same homeroom."

"It will be okay," Ymir assured him.

Armin nodded. "He might change his schedule."

"I-it was probably his plan to make my life miserable," Marco muttered.

"Don't say that," Christa insisted. "It will be okay."

"Sure," he mumbled and glanced down as he ate his bag of chips. "I don't know what I'd do if I had any more classes with him."

"I do," Ymir insisted. "Show him whose boss. Besides, what are the odds that he is in AP English, Honors math, and AP History?"

"True," he nodded slightly.

"I'm looking forward to Honors Pre-Calculus," Christa smiled.

Armin pointed at himself. "AP Calculus, ladies and gentleman."

"You little show-off," Marco laughed.

"That's me," Armin chuckled before continuing to eat his lunch.

"I wonder what we will get to read in English first. I'm looking forward to reading _Frankenstein_, and maybe _Brave New World_."

"_Brave New World_ sucks."

That voice did not match anyone else's in the group. Ymir and Marco glanced over at where the voice came from, but Marco quickly looked away.

"What the hell do you want?" Ymir snarled.

"I'm just stating my opinion." The voice belonged to Jean Kirschtein, who was standing behind Christa's chair. "_Brave New World_ sucks."

"You read _Brave New World?_" Armin mumbled in disbelief.

"Yeah, over the summer," he muttered and crosses his arms.

"Where, on Sparknotes?"

"No, I read it cover to cover," Jean retorted. "The book was a load of bullshit. They let kids fuck each other, and since when is purple eyes and orange teeth sexy? The whole meaning behind it was a little confusing at first but in the end simple, but still, that world they live in is so corrupt, it's not even funny. Their leader is a douchebag, and I know I wouldn't want to look at a thousand horse-faced motherfuckers every day that look just like me. Besides, why would they look at Ford as their deity all because he invented the Model T?"

The teenagers sitting at the table gaped at Jean as they listened to him.

"Oh, so you do have a brain," Ymir sighed. "Looks like I lost a bet."

"Ymir…" Marco grumbled as he kept his arms crossed and his head down.

"That was actually a pretty accurate mindset…for a jock," Armin proposed. "Do you read a lot in the summer, Jean?"

"None of your business," he muttered.

"Well, he's smart, but still an asshole," Ymir sighed.

"If you tell anyone I am taking AP English, you're all dead," Jean seethed. "And by the way, _Frankenstein _is a pretty good read."

They watched Jean leave, and Marco buries his face in his hands.

"Great," he muttered. "He is in that class too. See, Ymir? You jinxed it."

"Sorry," she chuckled.

"No, you're not." It was almost time for the next class, and he reluctantly got up. "Let's go, Armin?"

He nodded as he stood up. Soon they went to their next class.

Marco was just as miserable in AP English as in his other classes that he felt Jean's presence in, even if his best friend was with him. His next class after that was like receiving a bitch slap in the face. He had Honors Pre-Calc with him as well. This just made him want to cry.

_Why is this happening to me?_

At least at eighth period he was able to finally relax. Jean went home early this period, so he could enjoy these last forty minutes in peace. Armin and Marco could happily enjoy the first and last classes of the day without anyone to annoy them. However, it would have been much better if Ymir and Christa had more class with them.

By the end of the day, once thing was for certain. For Marco, this was going to be an extremely long year.

* * *

**By the way, the thoughts Jean had on ****_Brave New World_**** are his opinion and partially based on my own opinion. If you like the book yourself, that's cool. I have to admit it was a pretty good read and I read it in one day, but I did not like it at all.**


	6. Chapter 5

–Jean's POV—

_"So, you have how many classes _with the nerd?"

"Six," Jean muttered as he was washing the sweat off of his body in the showers in the locker room.

"That sucks," Reiner mumbled in response. "That's what you get for being in those two smart classes."

Jean shrugged as he rinsed himself off. They had just finished a brutal practice, and he was trying to relax his tensed muscles under the scalding heat of the shower.

"Jean, your skin's turning beet red," Bertholdt chided as he wrapped a towel around the lower half of his body.

"Shit," he hissed and turned the water off.

"Nice save," Reiner smirked.

Jean grabbed a towel and dried himself off quietly. "So at lunch, those two geeks were talking about what we're reading in English this year. They tried pretending to be know-it-all bookworms, but I schooled them."

"Takes one to know one," Reiner snickered.

He scoffed. "I'm not a bookworm. Book? What is this thing you call a book? I think I use those things to fuel manly fires after chopping down those tall ass trees. Less oxygen and less paper."

_What the fuck, Jean? Stop it._

"You're trying too hard, Jean."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed and then started getting redressed once by his gym locker.

Reiner and Bertholdt were both getting redressed, but they kept their shirts off for now. Bertholdt glanced at the slightly shorter young man. Once looking into each other's eyes, Jean could see the warm light radiating off their chests where their hearts were.

Reiner then killed the peaceful mood by attempting to sweep Bertholdt off his feet. Poor bastard couldn't even lift him off the ground.

"R-reiner," Bertholdt stammered and smiled slightly.

"Oh, Bertl, I love you," Reiner exclaimed as he smirked. "Let's make out every day and have endless butt sex~!"

"Reiner!" His partner's face grew a red.

As the two of them kissed each other, Jean rolled his eyes.

"Guys, he sighed, "wasn't it weird realizing that you—being two guys—were perfect matches?"

Bertholdt broke away from Reiner and shook his head. "Not at all. Love is love, Jean. The world would be a much better place if people realized that."

"Personally, I found it freaky as shit."

"Reiner, the moment just died," he muttered as he lightly punched his shoulder.

Reiner attempted to make a recovery. "Of course, once you see that love is the same no matter what, it's not as scary."

"Nice save…"

"You guys already sound like an old, married couple," Jean smirked. "You're definitely perfect matches."

Once the three of them were done changing, they went out of the gym area to get back to their cars to go home.

"Jean," Bertholdt said, "my advice should be to keep your options open."

"Hm?" Jean was somewhat paying attention.

"Be honest, have you ever questioned your sexuality?"

The question threw him off a little. "What? Pssh, no," he muttered. "I'm straight. Straight as a line… Or maybe straight as a squiggle?"

"In other words, you're not even sure?" Bertholdt offered. "That's okay, you know."

"But everyone is finding their stupid perfect matches before me," Jean sighed. "I've been seventeen for months, and I've had no luck."

Bertholdt shrugged. "Sometimes 'soul searching' takes a while. Just don't get so discouraged. And keep your options open. Your perfect match might be a girl or a boy; someone on your mind for years or someone you least expect. It can be a matter of trial and error."

Jean nodded a little. "Thanks for the advice."

He was only half listening.

_What'd he say? Something about not giving up and trial and error…? Some shit like that._

"No problem," Bertholdt smiled slightly. "I'd better get going."

"Same," Jean nodded.

He then went in his car quietly, the radio blaring once he turned on the ignition on. He was thinking to himself about how he could find his perfect match. It was a matter of trial and error, right? So he was going to keep trying until he found the girl of his dreams.

Right now he had his eyes set on the most beautiful girl he knew: Mikasa Ackerman. He hadn't been close enough to her since the end of junior year. Now was his chance to try.

"That's it," Jean assured himself as he pulled into the driveway. "Tomorrow, you are going to find your perfect match."

He didn't.

* * *

Of course, he was not looking hard enough for the perfect match and not keeping his options open like Bertholdt advised him.

The next day was pretty hysterical. He had Physics with Mikasa, so he made sure to sit at the same lab table as her. Mikasa seemed very indifferent about Jean's attempts to get her to notice him. And poor Jean Kirschtein tried everything.

They were taking notes quietly, and Jean "accidentally" dropped his pencil.

"Oops," he muttered.

Mikasa gave him a sideways glance. "Aren't you going to pick it up?"

Jean shifted slightly, and he chuckled nervously. "Yeah."

He muttered under his breath as he picked up his pencil. Then, he purposefully dropped it again.

"Dammit," he groaned. "I have such a bad case of butterfingers."

She gave him the same look. "Yeah. Butterfingers."

Jean sighed and then reached over Mikasa.

"Sorry, there," he stammered as he then had his arm hovering over her chest. Out of reflex, Mikasa's eyes narrowed as she quickly grabbed his wrist tightly.

"Y-yikes, Mikasa..!" he gasped.

"Get your arm away from there," she mumbled.

"O-okay, just let go of my arm."

Mikasa let it go after a moment, and he rubbed his wrist slightly. He picked his pencil up off the floor.

_Dammit, this is not working._

"You're strange," Mikasa mumbled.

Jean rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks?"

"That was not a compliment."

* * *

Jean had been going through the same charade during Physics for over a week and a half. While he and the other two football captains were starting to lead the team to victory, he was horribly losing the battle to win Mikasa over.

If anything, he was driving Mikasa further away. He cursed himself out in his head.

_Why can't I do this right?_

Once the lecture was over he went over to Mikasa again. She was sitting near Jaeger, the little fucker. Just because he plays soccer, doesn't mean that he's hotter. Sheesh.

"Mikasa," Jean called.

She glanced over at him slightly, her eyes narrowing. "What?"

He shifted the slightest. "Your hair…it's nice."

She had a slight smirk on her face. "Well, I'm glad that someone has taken an interest in it."

"Fucking dork," Eren snorted.

"Shut up," he muttered.

Mikasa stood up and looked at Jean. Then she grabbed the collar of his shirt.

"Wait, wha—?"

He was forced to make eye contact with Mikasa.

"I know what you've been trying to do," she muttered. "Let's just prove your little theory wrong, shall we?"

Jean froze, and he looked into Mikasa's eyes. He felt no warmth in his chest or anything. Glancing down at their chests, he noticed that neither of their hearts were glowing.

"Shit," he gasped.

"See?" she mused and then let go of his shirt.

"But," he sputtered. "I-I don't understand."

"It's simple," she insisted. "Neither of our hearts are glowing. It's a flawed match. Meaning: I am simply not the girl of your dreams, Jean Kirschtein."

"But Mikasa—"

"I would honestly rather run a cat over than kiss you. Enough said."

Jean tensed and then stepped back.

_Rejection. It hurts._

He was then startled by the sound of stifled laughter. He quickly glanced back at where a freckled young man was putting his reading glasses back in their case while clearing his throat.

_Marco…_

Jean glared at the geek as he watched him get up from his seat. Sensing the eye contact, Marco tensed and quickly diverted his eyes.

"He's a dead man," he muttered.

He watched Marco go out of the room once the bell rang. He smirked as he followed him, since they had gym class together. However, someone stopped him.

"So, Jean."

_Reiner, you couldn't have picked a better time to appear so suddenly,_ he thought sarcastically.

"What now?

"I heard that after two weeks, you had no luck with Mikasa," he smirked.

Jean glared slightly. "Shut the fuck up."

"What?" he chuckled.

Bertholdt sighed as he walked next to Reiner. "Remember when I said to keep your options open?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever." He didn't.

"That's what I thought."

"You guys had horrible timing," he muttered. "I was just about to hunt down the little motherfucker."

"Marco?" Bertholdt mumbled.

"Yeah, who else?" he snapped.

He finally got to the locker room, but Marco was already dressed and out in the gym. "Shit!"

Reiner shrugged as he started getting dressed for gym. Bertholdt joined him soon afterward. Marco did not have the same gym teacher as the three of them did, so they were outside on the football field doing a mock scrimmage while Marco's class was by the softball field.

_We have lunch together. So he doesn't have to rush to his next class after this. I will not hesitate to go ahead and fuck you up._

Gym class went by in such a blur, mainly from how pissed Jean was because of that little shit. Once in the locker room, he quickly got changed. He didn't know where Marco's locker was though, so he planned on waiting until the bell rang.

Everyone that needed to get to class right away left at that time. Jean can just faintly see the freckles on his victim's shoulders when seeing that his locker was not too far off. He paused a moment when seeing the entirety of his bare back.

Marco had several marks and bruises down his sides and shoulder blades. Jean knew that he did not cause them. He mostly hit the front of his body whenever confronting him. So right away he assumed that Reiner or some other kid probably did. Maybe Mikasa did; that would be funny.

"So." Jean then muttered once he was close enough.

This caused Marco to jump, but he refused to look back at Jean.

"You think people poking fun at me is fucking funny?" he continued.

He never realized that Marco was about an inch taller than him, considering he would always cower away whenever he confronted him in the past. It was different having to be at eye level with him.

There was still no response from Marco.

"Very well," Jean smirked.

He grabbed Marco's shoulder right over fairly dark bruises, causing Marco to tense up and yelp slightly from the pain. Jean quickly turned him around and pinned him to the lockers.

"It's time to teach you a lesson, then," he grinned darkly. "This should be fun for you."

Jean and Marco then made perfect eye contact for the first time since the previous school year ended. Two pairs of brown eyes—one pair looking sinister and the other glazed with fear—stared back at each other.

As Marco trembled beneath Jean's hold, he then froze when all of a sudden there was the slightest glow between them. Jean quickly glanced down at Marco's chest. Right where his heart was, a light red light was glowing. Marco glanced down in slight horror.

"What the…?" Jean tensed. "Your chest is…"

Jean quickly glanced back to see if anyone was behind them. No one was there. His grip tightened on Marco's shoulder, causing the boy to wince.

Then that was when Jean looked into Marco's eyes again. Marco's chest was glowing brighter much to his dismay, and Jean suddenly felt a warm feeling radiating from his own chest.

"Shit!"

Jean could now see the glowing of his own heart from underneath his shirt.

"N-no," Marco gasped.

"Both of our chests are glowing," Jean pondered. "Wait. That means…"

The two boys quickly flinched away from each other.

Jean Kirschtein and Marco Bodt were perfect matches. In the first second of realizing that, they exclaimed their next thought in unison.

"Oh, _fuck_ no!"

* * *

**Boom. It happened. And since this was the most recent chapter, I'm done for today. I might post chapters regularly once or twice a week until the story is over.**


	7. Chapter 6

–Marco's POV—

_"Shit, shit, shit!"_

_"This can't be _real!" Marco gasped.

"I know!" Jean muttered. "You're a fucking shit head. You can't possibly be my perfect match!"

Marco flinched slightly at hearing his comment, but he tried not letting it phase him as he self-consciously put on his shirt.

"M-maybe it was a fluke?" he stammered. "A-a mistake?"

"We're the only ones in here!" Jean glared at Marco. "Fuck you. If you think I'm going to stick with scum like you, think again."

He flinched again. "T-the same goes for me too, then."

"Don't tell _anyone_ about this!"

"I won't," Marco stuttered.

"Good." The bully shoved Marco again before quickly getting out of the locker room.

Marco stayed standing still for a few moments after Jean left. He had felt tears in his eyes and was trying to force them back.

"I-is this your idea of a joke?" he muttered to a god that he constantly questioned his belief in. "I-it's pretty damn hilarious."

As Marco was walking to the cafeteria, he stopped in front of familiar face.

"Marco, shouldn't you be at your next class?"

"B-bonjour, Levi," he gasped. He had to look down at his French teacher since he was a few inches shorter than him.

"I tend to forget that you had a growth spurt," Levi muttered. "Anyways, where is your next class? You are five minutes late."

Marco shook his head. "N-no, I have lunch now."

"I see," he nodded. "Principal Dok might still count that against you. Head to the cafeteria."

"O-oui, monsieur," Marco nodded and then continued walking. He glanced back the slightest, though.

Levi felt eyes on him, but he continued walking. Marco sighed and then finally went in the lunch room. He had his hand over his heart self-consciously as he sat down in his designated seat close to his friends.

Armin, Ymir, and Christa all glanced at him.

"Where were you?" Christa murmured.

"I-I just ran a little late," Marco mumbled, not looking at them.

"A _little_ late?" Ymir raised a brow. "You're never late for anything."

"Are you okay?" Christa spoke up again.

Marco curled his fingers around where his heart was. Sure, Jean told him not to tell anyone, but these were his friends. He really needed their help.

"Marco, what's wrong?"

He glanced up when hearing Armin, and he shifted slightly. "I… I-I found my perfect match."

"In the locker room?" Christa gasped and realized that his perfect match was another guy. "I knew you would find him!"

"Strike one," he interrupted. "Dad is not going to be happy about this _at all._"

"But you can't control that," Armin assured him. "He will just have to get over it."

"I mean, really," Ymir muttered. "There's nothing wrong with having a perfect match of the same gender."

"Yeah," Christa agreed. "I mean, look at us."

"True," Marco nodded slightly. The other day Christa and Ymir found out they were perfect matches. "Strike two. This is now all a part of a cruel joke called 'How to make Marco Bodt the most miserable man on Earth.'"

"What makes you say that?"

He hid his face in his hand. "Just… promise you won't tell anybody. He threatened me so that I had to keep it a secret."

Ymir froze slightly. "It's Jean, isn't it?"

"Please." Armin froze as well. "Don't tell me it's Jean."

Marco kept his head down as he slowly nodded. "I-it's Jean."

"God dammit!" Ymir growled.

"That's not fair!" Christa protested.

Marco shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course, it does," Armin insisted.

"N-no," he stammered. "This whole perfect match thing is a load of crap."

"Marco…"

"S-sorry, Christa," he sighed and rubbed his brow as he sniffled quietly. "That's how I feel. I always hated 'soul searching.' The 'end of heartbreak and loneliness?' Ha… That's a load of bullshit."

"Marco, that's not always the case."

"I-it's easy for you guys to say!" he retorted. "You have never experienced heartbreak first hand. It is such a horrible feeling that I do not wish for anyone to have."

"Marco, calm down," Christa assured him. "Maybe your perfect match being Jean won't be so bad."

He crossed his arms. "Oh, really? He thinks I'm ugly, and he uses my body as a punching bag."

"People can change over time," Armin offered. "You can't deny the fact that you guys are meant to be together. Just improvise a little."

"Yeah, like how we are learning it in Theatre Arts class," Christa added.

Marco hesitantly nodded and rubbed his eyes. "Okay. I'll try."

"So you know," Ymir mumbled, "if Jean hurts you too badly from now on, I will kick his ass."

"Be my guest," he sighed. "What do I tell my dad?"

"Just tell him the truth."

"Armin, I can't do that. Every time I tell the truth, I just get hurt."

"He needs to know this," Armin sighed. "Marco, what would eventually happen if he keeps referring to your perfect match as a girl, when in reality it is a boy? I know you. You will get frustrated and blurt it out too suddenly. And what about if your dad finds out on his own?"

He tensed slightly. "You're right."

Armin nodded slightly. "Just stay calm and don't show fear. What happened to that confidence you had when you dealt with Jean when he called the pizza parlor?"

"I threw it back up, remember?" he mumbled. "In all seriousness, I just… don't have that in me. It was just in the heat of the moment."

"Still, you spoke your mind," Ymir said. "Jean never saw it coming."

"And it's never going to happen again," he muttered. "Not for anyone."

Armin glanced at the time after a few moments. "Come on, it's time to go."

"Marco, you didn't eat any lunch," Christa sighed as she looked at him. "You're going to starve yourself if you keep doing that."

"Sorry, I'm just really upset today," he mumbled. "I'll eat tomorrow, I promise."

"Okay," she nodded slightly.

Marco and Armin then left to go to English once the bell rang. Just like every other day in class he avoided eye contact with Jean in the next couple of classes.

He did feel Jean looking at him, but he refused to look back at him. However, instead of feeling an intimidating, sinister aura, Jean's presence seemed to back off the slightest. He thought nothing of it, though.

* * *

After getting home from school, Marco sighed heavily as he went inside the house.

"Okay," he whispered. "You can do this, Marco. You don't have to tell him it's Jean. Just say that your perfect match is a guy."

His father was not a religious man, but he was still very prejudiced against couples of the same sex. That was why he never told him about Christa and Ymir being together. He can't imagine how he would react to this.

"Marco."

He tensed at hearing his father's voice in the kitchen. "Y-yeah, dad? he stuttered as he slowly walked in.

"Still unemployed?" he mumbled.

Marco nodded. "Yeah, dad, I'm still unemployed."

"The library's hiring," he stated. "That should highly take your interest, right?"

He nodded again. "I'll look into it, okay?"

"You'd better."

Marco shifted slightly. "Dad… there's something I have to tell you."

"What now?" he groaned.

He glanced down at the floor and shuffled his feet. "I-I found out who my perfect match is."

"Well, it's about time," his father muttered. "What's her name?"

"T-that's the thing," he whispered. "It's… not a girl.

He watched his father tense. "What do you mean, it's not a girl?"

"M-my perfect match is a boy at my school," he explained shakily.

"Hell no!" he retorted. "My son is _not_ going to be with another man!"

"Dad, I don't even like the guy," he insisted. "It's not my fault. It's not like being with your perfect match is that important, anyways."

It was as if he didn't hear him. His father shoved him away and glared.

"I'd better not see you trying to make any passes at him either!"

"Dad, I'm not going to!" he argued.

"Dammit, you were supposed to be with a girl!" he shouted.

"I-I'm sorry!" Marco was about to reach his breaking point. "I'm sorry that I disappointed you. But I'm not going to be with him, okay? I'm perfectly fine on my own."

Marco's father did not seem convinced. "If I see that you are with this boy that you are talking about, I will see to it that you will never set foot out of this house again."

"I'm eighteen!" he protested. "I am an adult! I can make my own choices. I could leave this house at any time and never come back!"

"So, why don't you?" he muttered.

Marco tensed when his father pushed him against the wall. He avoided eye contact, and he had slight trouble breathing since his father was very strong.

"I-I don't have any money," he mumbled. "O-or a job. A-and I want to stay here and look after you. You shouldn't have to be here by yourself."

His eyes were still narrowed. "You're a useless coward. That's why you won't leave."

Marco tensed but just nodded, having to agree with him. "Y-you're right."

His father pulled away finally, and Marco shivered as he kept his head down.

"Remember," his father muttered. "I'd better not see you trying anything with this 'perfect match' you have. Understood?"

_At least he doesn't know who it is._

Marco nodded. "D-don't worry," he assured him. "I won't."

He nodded as he glared. "I'm going out," he muttered as he went out the door.

Marco kept silent, sliding down the wall until he was sitting on the tile floor. He bunched his knees close to his chest. He felt a weird ache in his chest, and he put his hand over his heart.

_It hurts…_

His eyes were watering a little as he slowly pushed his head back.

"This is not fair," he muttered. "Of all people in this world, why me? W-why him…?"

He figured his life couldn't get any worse.

The worst part of it all was that he felt an emotion that he thought he would never feel in Jean's presence. He felt hope. That second that they had true eye contact made him feel such overwhelming warmth, even though Jean was glaring at the time. He was scared at seeing his chest glow when it did, because it never happened to him before, but seeing it happen gave him a brief sense of security.

Unfortunately, that moment quickly turned on him. It was Jean that made him feel that way. Jean Kirschtein. The one person besides his father and Reiner that had a life goal to make him feel miserable. The one that made him hate the way he looked. Wasn't the perfect match supposed to make him feel good about himself.?

Why did it have to be Jean Kirschtein?

Eventually Marco had to stop sulking. He had a lot of homework to do, so he got up and went to his room. Sitting at his desk, he tried working as diligently as he could before he would have no will to do anything but sleep.

_Why did it have to be Jean Kirschtein?_

* * *

**Pardon any typos. I'm fixing them, though. I rushed typing this out because I was waiting for my ride to go to a friend's house and pressed for time. I usually don't publish chapters without giving them a proper editing first.**

**The unedited version looked really funny though.**


	8. Chapter 7

**Just a minor disclaimer: There's a Shakespearean Sonnet because Jean hates Shakespeare, so I'm just throwing it out there that I don't own it. It's cited though, so that's a plus.**

* * *

–Jean's POV—

_Unlike Marco, Jean kept his word _and never told anyone. If word got out that his perfect match was that loser, he was done for. Say goodbye to popularity.

It was bad enough that he was in smart classes. Everyone on the team wouldn't let him get away with that. Well, sorry if he was at a higher reading level and had a thing for numbers.

Currently he was in Theatre Arts class, and he had his head propped up on the table using his arm. Hanji was going over the latest project that they had to work on.

"Each of you are going to write your own monologue," she explained. "It must be up to ten to fifteen lines and contain a meter of your choice. It does not have to be perfect. This is an experiment to determine your writing style and method of approach."

_Boring._ Jean's eyes were half-closed. He didn't even remember why he signed up for this class.

"They are due next Wednesday," Hanji continued. "That gives you a week and a half to do it. And don't wait until the last minute like Egghead did with the Sonnet analysis project."

"Mother Goose, stop calling me Egghead!" Connie groaned.

Hanji just chuckled slightly and looked around the room. "Did I mention that you have to present this?"

That caught the class' attention. Even Jean was taken aback.

"What if you don't want to?" he uttered.

"Just like you didn't want to do the Sonnet analysis?" she mused. "If you don't present, that's fifty percent of the grade. You're not off to a good start, Kirschtein. Even though this is an elective class, it still counts towards whether you play football or not.

Jean tensed slightly.

_Shit. If I fail, I'm done for!_

Who would have thought that he would actually fail such a somewhat easy and stupid class?

"I don't even know how to analyze a Sonnet," Jean shrugged.

"Oh, so you don't want to try and do that assignment," Hanji proposed. "I never thought that I would have to assign a tutor for this class though, especially since you are a good reader."

"I am, I just don't understand Sonnets," Jean sighed. "I can do the monologue project, easy."

Hanji thought for a moment. "I guess I can assign someone in the class who does understand to help you. We are most likely working with more Sonnets or any of Shakespeare's works in the future, since he is an important figure when it comes to theatre. You could use a one-on-one session."

"I guess," he sighed. "So, who would I have to be taught by?"

"That's easy," she insisted. "The only student that has an entire Shakespearean library and did three Sonnet analyses when you only needed to do one."

Jean froze when seeing a familiar form tense up and try to sink into his seat.

"Marco?!" he muttered. "No. Hanji, forget it."

"Do you want to fail, Kirschtein?" Hanji mumbled. "I can do that at this point, and that will count towards your athletic career."

Jean groaned. "Why?" he uttered.

The bell rang, and Marco was gathering his things to leave. Jean glared and went over to his desk.

"There is no way in Hell that I am going to listen to you," Jean seethed.

Marco glanced at him slightly and put his backpack on. "You don't have to. I never expected you to."

The younger of the two noticed something. Marco was wearing a large turtle neck sweater when it was still relatively warm out. It was October, for crying out loud. Marco's face showed his exhaustion, and his eyes were dull and droopy.

"Well," he pondered. "I have to stay on the team. So maybe I should. But not at school, because I don't want to be caught anywhere near you."

Jean started walking off without giving Marco a chance to say a response. The two of them needed to get to Physics. He kept his pace as he went down the hall, but he froze when seeing the geek standing next to him as he walked.

"I just started working at the local library," Marco stated. "I can help you with your project at four-thirty. That's when I'm on break."

"Uh…okay?" Jean shrugged. "So, four-thirty?"

Marco nodded quietly and wrapped his arms around himself.

"By the way, why the hell are you wearing a turtle neck?" he muttered. "You look like a jackass wearing that."

He tensed and shook his head. "No reason. I get cold easily, I guess."

They got into the classroom. Jean could tell Marco was lying, but he didn't really care.

"Whatever," he sighed.

"Hey, loser."

Jean stepped back and Marco tensed when Reiner shoved him hard into the other lab table.

"You're in my way," Reiner mumbled and then stood next to Jean as they sat down. "What a shithead."

Jean stayed sitting and his eyes were focused on Marco. He had fallen over, and he was rubbing his lower back as he was gathering his things. He trembled slightly and slowly stood up and sat in his regular seat.

He glanced at Reiner. "Hey, why did you do that?"

Reiner looked confused as hell. "'Why?' We do shit like that all the time."

"I know, but he needs to help me with this stupid assignment I never finished. I'm stuck at the library at four-thirty."

"Four-thirty?" Reiner groaned. "We have scrimmage today. You can't afford to miss any practices. Coach Shadis will—"

"Whatever," he muttered. "It's only one practice. How much is Coach Shadis going to penalize me?"

Reiner shrugged. "It's not worth it."

"I'm sure that I would rather miss just one practice than fail and get kicked off the team," Jean sighed.

"True," he sighed. "Fine, I'll tell Coach."

"Thanks," Jean sighed.

The teacher started the lecture, and as they started taking down notes (except for Reiner, he was falling asleep), Jean couldn't help but keep glancing at Marco.

It was strange. That day when their chests were glowing left him with mixed emotions. He couldn't stand him, but at the same time, he never had a reason why. Maybe it was because he was smart and vulnerable. He really didn't know.

He did remember than when he was in third grade, Reiner thought that Marco was really funny looking because of his freckles. But they could only make fun of him at recess because he was in the fourth grade.

_What year did he stay back?_

Jean shook his head and glanced back down at his notes. Just because they were supposedly perfect matches means nothing. Marco was still a pathetic loser, and nothing was going to change that.

* * *

_Where the hell is the motherfucker?_

It was four-thirty, and Jean was sitting at a table in the library. Marco was not there yet.

"I swear, if he doesn't come in the next ten seconds, I'll fucking—"

"S-sorry." Marco showed up before Jean could finish his threat. "I had to finish reorganizing the shelves in the children's section." He sat down across from Jean at the table.

"Whatever," he muttered and took out a printed out copy of the Sonnet he had to analyze a week ago, as well as his notebook.

Marco looked at the sonnet. "Shakespearean Sonnet 147," he mused. "Hanji gave you an interesting one."

"Yeah, and I couldn't understand shit," Jean mumbled. "I hate Shakespeare."

"And you still ended up in AP English. "Marco rolled his eyes and quietly put on his reading glasses. "Well, before you begin your analysis, let's translate it to modern English."

Jean sighed. "This is fucking bullshit."

"I didn't even start yet," he huffed and then read the Sonnet aloud:

_"My love is a fever, longing still_

_For that which longer nurseth the disease,_

_Feeling on which doth preserve the ill,_

_The uncertain sickly appetite to please._

_My reason, the physician to my love,_

_Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,_

_Hath left me, and I desperate now approve_

_Desire is death, which physic did except,_

_Past cure I am, now reason is past care_

_And frantic mad with forevermore unrest;_

_My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,_

_At random from the truth vainly express'd;_

_For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,_

_Who art as black as hell, as dark as night" _(Shakespeare, Sonnet 147).

Jean faked that he was snoring after hearing Marco, his eyes closed and his head propped up against his arm.

"Seriously?" Marco muttered. "I don't have to help you. I can just let you fail."

"All right, all right." Jean opened his eyes.

Jean and Marco looked into each other's eyes, and a moment later they could see each other's hearts glowing through their shirts. They quickly looked away at seeing that, and soon the warmth faded only slightly.

Marco cleared his throat. "Let's get started with the translating."

"Yeah," he nodded. "You didn't sound so monologue and choppy like other kids that read Shakespeare. It wasn't that bad, actually."

The other boy shifted uncomfortably. "Blame that on my many years of going to drama camp every summer. Shakespeare was very popular every year. One year they thought that I was so good that they casted me as Iago when we did Othello that summer."

"Not bad, I guess," Jean sighed.

Marco felt a little embarrassed. "O-okay, translating time. I'll do the first four lines to help you get started."

"All right," he nodded.

The freckled boy looked over the Sonnet again.

"Shakespeare is talking about being so in love that it is almost unhealthy. Think of it as being like an obsession. However, there is more to that."

"Makes sense," he replied.

He nodded quietly. "Now, you try the next two lines, and I will translate the next couple after."

Jean looked at the paper. "It all just looks like fucking Gibberish."

"Jean, focus," he insisted. "You're a football captain that is smart enough to get into AP English. If you can analyze _Brave New World,_ I'm sure you can translate two measly lines from a Shakespearean sonnet."

He couldn't help but feel a little confident and reassured at hearing how supportive Marco was trying to be.

"All right," he sighed and reread the next two lines. "Well, I think Shakespeare is saying that his love is wrong. Maybe it's not that it's an obsession. This love interest is… is—"

"A lady of the night."

"Aw, I was going to say whore," Jean sighed. "He's seeing another woman. And he can't stop seeing her or thinking about her."

"Bingo," Marco nodded. "That's it. You figured out the sonnet."

"Seriously, that's it?" Jean felt victorious now. "I get it now."

He nodded. "My break is over," he sighed as he looked at the time. "Finish your analysis. I'll be around if you need extra help."

Marco kept his reading glasses on as he got up. He went back to over where the children's books were, while Jean wrote down his analysis.

_Why didn't I understand this earlier? This was easy._

He was able to finish in five minutes, and he put his notebook away in his backpack. He still had the entire evening to do nothing since he was missing out on practice.

Marco was passing by Jean's table to head over to the young adults section.

"Done already?"

"Yep," Jean nodded. "Thanks for your help."

"O-oh," Marco stammered. "No problem. So, are you good on writing your monologue?"

Jean nodded. "That's going to be easy." He then got up.

"Yeah," Marco nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. This caused the obnoxious turtle neck he was wearing to slide down a little.

Jean froze when seeing why he was wearing that ridiculous sweater. There was a huge bruise on his neck that almost resembled a hand print. Jean definitely didn't do that.

"What the hell happened?" he muttered.

Marco was confused but quickly realized after a moment. He tensed and fixed his sweater.

"N-nothing," he stuttered.

"You're a horrible liar."

He shifted nervously. "I-I have to go back to work."

"Marco, wait."

Jean wasn't given a chance to confront him. Marco took off and was soon on the other side of the library.

"Oh well," he sighed as he went outside. "Not my problem."

Jean found that deep down he was concerned. He didn't know who would be harsh enough to actually choke Marco with a grip so strong that the person left their mark. True, he beat the shit out of him several times, but he never tried to kill him or get him hospitalized. He knew there had to be a line drawn somewhere.

As he walked back to his car, he felt like he was forgetting something. He ignored the feeling, though. He started the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. He glanced around slightly once at a red light.

"This is really bothering me." Jean was still concerned because of what he saw on Marco's neck. "Maybe I should call Reiner and ask him about it."

But as he went into his pocket, he froze.

"Shit," he muttered. "I knew I forgot something."

Jean left his phone on the table back at the library. It was too late to go back now though, because he was almost home.

"Oh well," he sighed as he drove. "I'll pick it up tomorrow."


	9. Chapter 8

**I want to add a trigger warning just in case. The beginning of this chapter has a scene where you actually see Marco's father try to harm him, when throughout the story I had minor incidents, foreshadowing, and subliminal messaging. I know how sensitive some people are about things like this, so I want to try to keep a reader from getting worked up over reading this.**

**Other than that, the point is being reached in the story where you slowly start to see some benefits for both Marco and Jean from finding out that they are perfect matches. Things will slowly get better from here on out. After all, this is supposed to be a love story.**

* * *

–Marco's POV—

_He closed the library at eight-thirty_ and was now on his way to his car. He thought about a few hours earlier, when he helped Jean with the sonnet. It was actually…nice. He didn't have to worry about someone ambushing him or anything like that. It was even more relaxing because he was sitting right across from one of his main attackers.

However, Jean did forget his phone. Marco decided that he'd better hold onto it for him because they were going to see each other second period anyways. The phone was on a password lock, so no one would have been able to break into it if they wanted to.

He went into his car and sighed heavily before starting to drive home. He felt a dull pain in his lower back from when Reiner shoved him into the lab table, and he was uncomfortable because of the turtle neck he wore to try and cover his bruises. Instead of this article of clothing, he decided that tomorrow he should wear a sweat jacket.

Just normal thoughts ran through his conscience. There was no apprehension or intensified pain. This was the most peaceful time in his life, and he was going to cherish it.

It took him ten minutes to get home. After pulling into the driveway, he went inside. He glanced around the house quietly.

"…Dad?" Marco glanced towards the living room since he heard the television in there. He walked in there quietly and saw his father sitting back in his chair, fast asleep and snoring.

Marco couldn't help but feel a little relieved. He went into the kitchen and silently made himself a sandwich to eat. He glanced at the sink and sighed when seeing that his father did not do the dishes again. Oh well, at least he was here and could do them himself. No big deal. So after hastily eating his dinner he did the task at hand.

_It's so quiet,_ he thought, _excluding the TV._

He was done after a few minutes. He checked the time and saw that it was only nine o'clock.

_Maybe I should take a shower._

He knew that he should, especially since he did sweat a lot from wearing the turtle neck. So he got a change of clothes before going into the bathroom. He undressed himself and avoided looking at himself in the mirror.

He had the water steaming hot in the shower, and he stepped into it. He stared straight ahead of him so his gaze wouldn't wander to the rest of his body. He had many insecurities, thanks to over eight years of being ridiculed and made fun of because of his imperfections. After a few moments he started humming as he was washing himself off. That was quite a habit he had, but he tried making sure that his tune was quiet so that he wouldn't disturb his father.

He felt confident for once, just being here by himself. It was a luxury he never really had, so he embraced it. His mindset was so uplifting that he started singing in the shower without a care in the world. This was his moment to shine and show his true colours.

He continued singing as he rinsed himself off, his arms tracing along his bruised and freckled arms. His eyes were closed as he smiled and tilted his head up towards the shower head.

Soon this peaceful time he had would fade. He did not hear the thundering footsteps come down the hall, but he tensed and was startled when hearing obnoxious rapping at the door.

"Marco, shut the hell up!"

Marco kept very still since he stopped singing after being startled.

"S-sorry!" he gasped. "I got carried away!"

"No, you were being ignorant!" he muttered from outside the room. "You knew I was sleeping."

"I said I was sorry!" he called out.

"You'd better be sorry."

Marco stepped back and tensed when hearing the door open. He regretted that he forgot to lock the door.

"D-dad!" he sputtered. "I'm in the shower!"

"I know that," his father muttered and went to the sink.

"G-get out!" Marco was getting really scared, not liking that he was not alone in the bathroom anymore.

"Oh, you're going to be rude now?" He glared and turned on the faucet.

That caused Marco to tense when suddenly feeling the shower turn icy cold. He gasped out and yelped but did everything he could to make sure he stayed in the shower.

"D-dad, don't do that!"

"Then apologize for being so fucking rude," he muttered.

"You wouldn't be doing this if mom was here!" he cried and covered his mouth. Mentioning his mother in any way around his father did not end well for him in any situation. That was his trigger word.

Marco then flinched when feeling a force so strong that he was knocked down to the shower floor. He looked up and saw that his father flung open the shower curtain. He quickly covered himself and trembled.

"Dad… P-please, leave me alone," he shivered. "I-I'm sorry."

"You should be," he glared and then stepped back. "You looked better with clothes on."

Marco froze at hearing his father and stayed sitting down in the shower. The still freezing water was raining down on him as he bunched his knees close to his chest and rested his head on them. He tried comforting himself this way, but it was not really helping him. So he was just letting the time pass. Eventually he got too cold and turned the shower off, sluggishly getting ready for bed.

He felt more frightened being at home now. His father's anger was getting worse and a little more out of control. He never did that before, and Marco was lucky that all he did was shove him. He didn't know if he should expect any worse of him. The thought got him so worked up that he cried himself to sleep.

* * *

Like he promised himself, this time he was wearing a sweat jacket, and it was more airy than wearing the turtle neck. He was barely paying attention in French class, though, which was very out of character. He just couldn't help but keep thinking about the night before when his father barged into the bathroom during his shower. He felt a little violated, even though all he did was shove him. It was mainly because of the way he looked at him and what he said.

_"You look better with clothes on."_

"Marco!"

He quickly tensed and sat up straight when hearing his name being called on. He recognized that earlier Levi was asking a question, so he assumed that he was supposed to answer said question. He said the first thing that came to his mind.

"B-baguette?"

He heard some snickering around him.

_Yep. I'm _way _off._

Levi raised a brow when hearing the student. "Non, Marco." He glanced at the other students and made sure that they knew the answer. Marco meanwhile hid his face in his hands. That was really stupid of him to say that.

_God dammit, what's wrong with me?_

Marco tried to pay attention to what was going on in class, but his mind kept wandering elsewhere as he took notes. He felt like such an idiot for doing that. When the bell ran for the next class, everyone got up to leave.

"Marco, let me have a word with you," Levi suddenly stated just as everyone else left.

Marco swallowed dryly. _I've never gotten yelled at by Levi before._ He automatically assumed that his French teacher was going to penalize him for not paying attention. However, despite how scared he was, he complied and moved closer to the teacher's desk.

"Oui, monsieur?" he stammered.

"I never had to say anything about you not paying attention in my class," Levi mumbled. "For over three years, you've always been diligent and paying attention. What is making you lose that edge today?"

Marco was nervous at hearing him. He wasn't sure if to tell him the truth or to make something up.

"J-just lack of sleep, I guess," Marco chuckled slightly.

"Let's be honest here." He raised a brow. 'You are an eighteen year old senior with a job and taking classes that require a lot of homework, including my own. There is no such thing as 'lack of sleep' being a problem."

Marco stayed silent.

"Is there anything going on at home?"

"E-everything is fine," he blurted out. "Nothing is going on."

Levi tilted his head to the side and gave him a look of disbelief. "If you say so, Marco. If you ever did say that anything was going on, you know I won't say anything to anyone else unless if you tell me to."

"I know," he insisted. "And I appreciate it, but I'm okay. It's nothing that I can't handle."

He just nodded. "Let me give you a pass for your next class."

_That was close._

Marco did trust Levi more than he trusted his own father, mainly because they've known each other for so long. But he figured it was better that he didn't say anything. Once getting the late pass from his teacher, he went out of the classroom and started heading towards Theatre Arts. He handed his late pass to Hanji once inside and sat in his seat, sighing quietly.

Christa looked over at her friend. "Are you okay? What took you so long?"

"My French teacher spoke to me after class," he told her. "He was…worried. At least, he didn't _sound_ worried, but his choice of words let me know that he was.

"We're all worried about you." She shifted closer. "To tell you the truth, I think even Jean is worried."

He froze slightly. "W-what makes you say that?"

"Well, the first couple minutes of the class he kept asking me where you were. He looked concerned."

Marco listened to Christa and then glanced over at where Jean sat. He saw that the jock was looking over at them, and he tensed before looking back down, not wanting to make eye-contact. He kept his head down until he knew Jean was looking away.

He started working on his monologue project. He tried thinking of a good thought process that he could use as inspiration. However, like last period, he kept thinking back to the night before. This was making him feel frustrated. He didn't want to think about that.

_Marco, keep it together. Don't embarrass yourself again._

What was once the outline for his monologue was now chicken scratch and blotted out phrases. His pen kept trailing along the paper as he scribbled absentmindedly. He was drawing a blank and had absolutely no will to work on this project at the moment.

"Hey, Marco."

He jumped slightly and glanced up. Instead of a teacher calling him, it was Jean. He was standing right by his desk.

_Oh, great. What does he want now?_

"What?" he mumbled.

"I just wanted to know how you were," he insisted. "Did something happen?"

"It's none of your business."

"Fair enough," Jean retorted. "I was just wondering, though."

Marco glanced at the time and saw that the class period was over. He got his things just as the bell rang. He then remembered something as he watched the younger boy start to leave.

"Wait, Jean."

"Yeah?" Jean glanced over at the other. He raised a brow at seeing him go in his pocket. Marco did not hesitate as he placed the cell phone in Jean's hand.

"Here," he murmured. "You forgot this at the library yesterday."

Jean then put his phone in his pocket and sighed in relief. "Thanks. Now I don't have to go back there and deal with the bitches at the front desk there."

"No problem," he nodded and started walking out of the classroom. He stayed by himself for a moment but then froze when hearing footsteps behind him.

"Hey." Jean was now walking alongside him. "So, since I might need more help with the Shakespeare bullshit later on, I'm going to most likely going to have to plan one-on-one sessions ahead of time. So in case if that happens, can I have your number?"

Marco gaped slightly and couldn't help but blush a little. He never, _ever_ thought that someone who was popular would want his number, _especially _Jean. He couldn't believe it. He was about to say no right away, but he slowly thought to himself. They were supposed to be perfect matches. Maybe Jean was trying to make the best of it. Maybe he should try as well. It wouldn't hurt to at least try and be friends with him. So after a moment of thinking, he hesitantly nodded.

"O-okay," he stuttered. "But only on one condition. If I give you my number, there will be no rude text messages or prank calls. I am taking a huge risk giving you my number, and I expect you to be somewhat civil. But if you do abuse this right, I will make sure you regret that. Got it?"

Jean nodded, looking genuinely serious. "I got it. And don't worry, I will not give your number out to anyone either."

He was still a little wary but nodded. "Okay. We'll exchange numbers, then."

And so they did. Jean put the new contact on his phone and had sent a text message to Marco that would let him know that it was his number. Marco was planning on checking the message at lunch, though.

"A pleasure doing business with you," Jean said with a slight smirk.

"Yep." Before going to his seat he looked at Jean. "By the way, that was a pretty smooth way for you to ask for my number."

"Right?" he chuckled and sat down.

Marco sighed quietly as he sat at his usual lab table. This time as he took notes during this period, he completely forgot about what happened the night before. That slipped his mind, much to his relief. All he thought about now was how excited he was to get a phone number from a popular kid. Hopefully his means that he won't be as mean to him any more. He can't say the same about his father or Reiner, but he was happy just the same.

_Things are starting to get better._

* * *

**I personally would like to take a moment to thank everyone for all the favourites, follows, and reviews. You are all too kind ;;**


	10. Chapter 9

–Jean's POV—

_Jean never got around to calling _Marco or anything after getting his number. He planned on keeping his word and not abusing his right to have this privilege. He actually did want to try making things work. They were supposed to be soul mates, after all. Naturally, his intention was to only become friends with him.

It was Saturday, and the team was celebrating their victory over their cross-town rivals the night before. They decided to have the party at Reiner's summer house, which was right along the beach.

The music was blasting around the house, and of course Reiner supplied the beer. Most of the team was already getting wasted. Jean, however, was sitting on the couch and watching everybody make fools out of themselves. He wasn't really in the mood to drink at the moment.

Reiner plopped down on the couch next to him. "Hey, what's up?"

Jean glanced up at him. "Not much, I'm just bored."

"Why? It's a party, man," he smirked and patted him on the back. "For the first time in seven years, the Knights have beaten the Titans! You should have seen Coach Shadis' face when we won."

Jean gave him a smug look. "That's because I was too busy making that winning touchdown with three seconds left in the game."

"That's right," Thomas Wagner, the team's quarterback, smirked as he nodded.

Reiner handed Jean a solo cup as he stood up on the couch.

"To Kirschtein, the team's last resort," he joked. "Without him, we would have never had such a record win against those douchie Titans!"

"To Kirschtein!" the rest of the team cheered before chugging down whatever beer was left in their cups. Jean smirked but only took one sip.

"You're too kind," he chuckled. "It was everyone working together as a team."

"Oh yeah, because Daz tripping over some mud had a huge impact on us winning," Thomas laughed.

Other team members laughed while Daz rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

They all glanced up when hearing a knock on the door. "Hey," Reiner smirked. "That must be our pizza."

"You ordered pizza?" Jean questioned as he watched his friend go to the door. Of course Reiner was ignoring him and answering the door instead.

Armin Arlert was holding the order, and he gave the football captain a neutral look. "Here is your order. It's thirty-five dollars and forty cents."

"Did you add those extra coins to piss me off?" Reiner muttered.

Armin shook his head. Normally Jean did not care if Reiner behaved like this towards him and Marco, because he did the same thing. However, since he wanted to try and be friends with Marco, he figured that he should not be like that anymore. Reiner first paid for the food before Daz took the order from Armin. As soon as the food was out of his possession, Reiner grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him inside.

"So, Armin," Reiner smirked. "How much should I smash your face in to make you stupid?"

Armin's eyes narrowed slightly. "As many times as it would take for you to ask that question over and over again until you say your threat correctly."

Reiner's eyes narrowed as he pushed him down to the floor. "You'll pay for that."

Armin shrugged, but it was evident that he was getting nervous.

Jean couldn't just sit there and let this happen. He got up from the couch and ran over to them just as Reiner was about to punch Armin. He blocked the punch by taking a hold of Reiner's fist. This action threw everyone off.

Reiner glared and tried pulling his hand back. "Jean, what the hell?"

"Reiner, Armin is just doing his job," he muttered. "Fuck off, okay? We already got Marco fired from us doing stupid shit like this. I don't think his boss would like to lose another employee because of us."

His friend glared still, but the other teammates stayed quiet. Bertholdt moved closer to Reiner and held him back as he moved away from Jean and Armin. Jean took that opportunity to look at Armin and hold out his hand. The smaller boy was unsure but complied as he helped him up.

"Thanks," Armin mumbled.

"No problem," Jean assured him. "Now, get out of here, okay? It's not worth your time."

Armin nodded. "You're changing. It's a good thing."

"Maybe I'm just growing up," he shrugged.

"It's about time someone did." He pondered for a moment. "Hey, can I slap you? Just this one time so that I have a cool story to tell about today."

Jean figured he did deserve a good slap, considering he tormented Armin and Marco for years. "Sure, I guess."

"Cool." Armin them made the best angry face he could manage before slapping him hard across the face. "Thanks, asshole."

Jean had to admit it did sting a little, and he rubbed his cheek slightly. "Later, Armin."

As soon as Armin left, Reiner went over to Jean despite how hard Bertholdt tried to hold him back.

"What the hell is your problem?" he muttered. "You let him get away, just like that!"

"_And_ he slapped you!" Thomas added.

"So?" he shrugged. "It's not worth our time to keep hurting them."

"Pull yourself together!" Daz exclaimed. "Jean, we're losing you, man!"

"You're not losing me." He rolled his eyes quietly. "I just don't want to keep doing that. I want to keep playing football without having to prove my strength by beating up a nerd."

Reiner groaned in annoyance. "Whatever. You're on an 'I wanna be a good boy' streak? Okay, fine. But I'd better not see you try and be a hero while I'm beating someone up, okay? Do that again, and you'll be sorry."

"Oh, I'm so scared," he muttered. "This party sucks, I'm going home."

"Who needs you, anyways?"

He heard Reiner but didn't acknowledge him as he went outside. It was raining, but his jacket was at home, so he just tried quickly going over to his car. He drove quietly once getting settled. He had to think for a moment.

"Why the hell is everyone getting so worked up?" he mumbled. "It's not like being a bully was my lifetime hobby. Everyone stops being a douchebag some time in their lives, right?"

He froze when seeing the Check Engine light turn on. It has been turning on like that ever since he got it—and it didn't help that his parents told him that it was used—but of course he never got it checked. No one ever checks the engine when seeing the light. But shortly he was going to regret not doing so.

As he was on the main road, he felt the car jerk slightly. Jean froze and his ride was quickly getting bumpy. Just his luck that now the car decides to start breaking down. He glared as he pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car.

"Shit," he hissed. He got out of the car as the rain was pouring down harder. He went over to the hood and checked the engine. Once opening the hood, he flinched back and covered his face when smoke escaped from the confinement. There was a spark as well, and that made Jean quickly close the hood again.

_Nope. Not even going to bother. This car's done for._

"Well, that's just great," he glared. "Fucking perfect."

By now he was drenched from the pouring rain. He crossed his arms and kicked his tire. He seriously hated this, and his house was fifty minutes away on foot. However, he had no choice but to walk, so he proceeded to do so. Thankfully, he used the sidewalk to guide him and had his cell phone in case his parents try to call him.

After about ten minutes, he heard the blaring of a car horn behind him. He glanced back and saw a 2002 navy blue Mercedez-Benz. There was only one person he knew that had a car that was over ten years old.

Marco Bodt.

Marco pulled over and got out of the car. He had a jacket on and took out an umbrella before going over to Jean while staying dry.

"Are you crazy?" he blurted out. "You could catch pneumonia walking out here like this. Where's your car?"

"Broken down on the side of the road," he mumbled. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine."

"No, you're not." While still keeping the umbrella over his head, he took of his jacket, having to switch hands as he did so. He then handed it to Jean. "Here. You need this more than I do."

Jean sighed and then put Marco's jacket on. He already felt a little warmer. "Thank you, Marco."

"You're welcome," he nodded and glanced at his car. "Come on, I'll take you home."

"Are you sure about that?" he said. "I thought you don't trust me."

"I don't," Marco insisted. "But I'm not heartless, either. Let's go, okay?"

Jean shrugged and walked over to the passenger side.

"Besides, I'll need my coat back sometime," Marco confessed and smirked as he went in the car, putting the umbrella away.

"You little—I knew there had to be a real reason." The younger of the two sat in the passenger seat, and Marco soon was back on the road. "Hey, you work at the library, don't you? Why aren't you there?"

"The library is closed today," he replied. "Columbus day weekend."

"Oh," he nodded. He watched Marco turn his stereo up. The music playing sounded like a theme to a cheesy eighties movie. "What is this shit?"

Marco's eyes narrowed as he gave him a sideways glance while driving. "Imagine Dragons."

As soon as the singing started, Jean realized he was right. "I never heard this song on the radio."

"Not every artist gets all their songs on the radio," he shrugged. "It's called 'Tiptoe.'"

Jean listened quietly and sat back. "Catchy. So, I guess they're your favourite."

"Second," he answered. "My top favourite is AC/DC. Third is Trans-Siberian Orchestra."

"Wow, that's a lot of variety," Jean whispered.

The chorus began, and Marco started to sing along as he drove.

_"Hey, yeah. Don't let them know we're coming. Hey, yeah, tiptoe higher. Take some time to simmer down, keep your head down low. Hey, yeah, tiptoe higher."_

Jean listened to Marco, a little surprised. "Wow. You can act _and_ sing."

A light blush dusted Marco's freckled cheeks, and he shook his head. "N-no, not really. I-I'm a little tone deaf."

"Not at all," he insisted. "You sound pretty good."

Soon his whole face was a bright red as he tried paying attention to the road still. "Thank you, Jean."

"No problem," he nodded and thought for a moment. "Hey, do you want to stop and get something to eat? It's still early, you know. And I'll pay."

His companion looked nervous. "I-I'm not sure. I have to be back home by a certain time."

"Don't worry," he assured him. "You'll know when you need to get back."

Marco sighed and hesitantly nodded. "O-okay. I was planning on visiting my friends at the pizza place."

"I'm down for pizza," he nodded and then put his feet up on the dashboard.

"Hey, feet off," Marco chided. "Have some class."

"Sorry," he chuckled and put his feet down.

The song changed on the stereo. There was a well-known guitar riff in the beginning.

"'Thunderstruck?'" Jean mused.

"What?" he shrugged as he smiled. "It's a mixed CD."

"I can tell."

They stayed silent for the rest of the ride as the music played. This was a side of Marco he had never really seen before. He was actually fun. Nervous, but fun, as well as kind. And meanwhile Jean was a pompous asshole that was trying to clean up his act. See the difference? He did feel bad, come to think of it, since for years he intended on making his life miserable, when in reality he did not deserve that kind of treatment.

"We're here." Marco finally got to the pizza parlor and stopped the car in the parking lot.

"Cool," Jean nodded. He still had Marco's jacket on, so he went out of the car and embraced being out in the rain yet again. Marco got out as well and had his umbrella hovering over his head.

"Hey, what are you going to tell your parents when they question you about your car?" he asked while they walked to the door.

"I'll just tell them the truth," he answered. Then he opened the door to the parlor and held it. "After you, Mr. Bodt."

Marco blushed lightly and slowly went in. "T-thank you, Mr. Kirschtein."

"Wow, calling each other by our last names sounds really weird."

"Indeed. Let's not do that anymore."

"Agreed," Jean nodded. "Why are we still talking like fifty-year-old gentlemen?"

"I don't know, but I think we should stop." Marco cleared his throat to try and suppress a slight glare. "Let's go order something."

"Way ahead of you," he nodded and they both went up to the front counter. Jean could hear Armin in the kitchen.

"Then I gave that smooth jerk face a piece of my mind. I came at him, and I said 'This is for all the crap I have to deal with!' And then BAM! I slapped him right across the face!"

"Still find it hard to believe," Jean heard Ymir mumble.

"I wonder who he's talking about." Marco shifted nervously but found what he was saying amusing.

"I know," Jean smirked. He cleared his throat before calling out. "Armin, you mean to tell me that they don't believe you?"

There was a startled noise from inside the kitchen, and all three of them went out into the kitchen. Armin chuckled nervously.

"I did try to alter the story a little bit," he stammered.

"So, what really happened?" Ymir crossed her arms.

Jean walked closer to them. "The truth is, he did slap me. But he went through with it because he asked for permission to."

Marco froze. "Armin, you slapped Jean?"

"Yep." Armin looked really confident.

"B-but why?"

Jean spoke for Armin. "He was delivering Reiner's order. I was there for a lame victory party. Reiner tried beating him up in front of the team, but I stopped him. And Armin really wanted to have a story worth talking about, so I let him hit me."

Ymir looked at Armin. "That was not at all what you told us."

He shrugged and gave her a shy smile. "Yeah, I know."

"So, what are you both doing here?" Christa asked.

"My car broke down," Jean explained. "It's ancient, though, so I knew it had to die sometime. Marco found me while I was walking and offered me a ride home. In return, I'm offering him dinner."

Christa smiled. "That's adorable. And look, you're wearing Marco's jacket."

"N-no, it's not like that!" Marco insisted. "He was an idiot and forgot his own raincoat at home."

"That sounds about right," Ymir smirked.

"Anyways," Armin spoke up. "What would you two like today."

"I-I just want one slice," Marco stuttered. "Y-you know what I like."

"You sure you want only one?"

"Yes," he assured Jean. "I'm not that hungry."

"All right." Jean then looked up. "Two slices for me, please. Everything on it with extra anchovies. Add in a can of brisk if you can."

"Gross," Armin groaned. "But you got it. That will be seven-fifty."

Jean nodded and took out his wallet, paying for the food. "Hey Marco, let's go sit, okay?"

Marco nodded a little. "S-sure."

They sat at a table close to the counter so that Marco could still talk to his friends. That was understandable. In the meantime, they just sat there and waited for their food. Marco then finally spoke.

"T-that order you made on Labour Day," he started. "That one weird pie with all the anchovies. Did you intend to eat that entire pie yourself?"

"Yep," he nodded and smirked. "I fucking love anchovies."

"Disgusting," he sighed.

"I ate that entire pie after we got it too."

Marco pretended to gag a little. "That's too much for me to hand. I hate anchovies."

"Cool, so you won't steal my food," Jean joked.

"As long as you don't like black olives."

"You can keep your damn black olives, Marco," he laughed.

"Thanks," he smiled.

Ymir then came over and gave them their order.

"Can you tone down on the cuteness? I'm about to throw up," she mumbled.

"Oh, come on," Marco sighed. "What about you and Christa?"

"That's different," she muttered. "We're together. You guys are just being weird."

"Well, thanks," he muttered.

"Can't two friends just hang out together?" Jean added.

"All right…" Ymir stepped back and then went back over to the kitchen.

Marco looked a little confused. "Friends…?"

Jean nodded. "Yeah, friends."

"You… You think of me as a friend?"

The two of them were equally getting a little flustered, and Jean rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I do."

They looked into each other's eyes quietly. Jean noticed the small smile on Marco's face, and he couldn't help but embrace the warm feeling he was getting in his heart. Soon both their chests were glowing a bright red, much brighter as well as warmer than the last time they looked at each other this way. Jean propped his head on the table with his arm and was focused on Marco's face…mainly his freckles. Now that he really looked at him, Marco was not that bad looking at all. Not only was he tall, he had a nice, natural tan. And those freckles, God, they completed him. Jean just couldn't help but try and see if his freckles had special patterns.

Marco was blushing now as he quickly looked down when realizing how long they were looking at each other. "L-let's eat."

Jean nodded as he cleared his throat. The both of them started eating their slices of pizza.

"Those anchovies look putrid," Marco groaned.

He shook his head in response and hummed quietly in satisfaction as he ate. "They're delicious."

"Ew," he muttered and finished his slice.

"You're one to talk," Jean retorted. "You just ate a pizza with black olives and sausage!"

Marco shrugged as he looked at Jean, and he then smiled. He covered his mouth as he couldn't help but giggle. Jean was confused as hell.

"What?" he questioned. "Is there something on my face?"

Marco nodded as he laughed. "A piece of an anchovy is on your chin. It's so disgusting."

"Oh?" he smirked. "Want it?"

"Ew, no!" he gasped and shifted back.

He then raised his arm. He was still wearing Marco's jacket, and he had the sleeve hovered over his chin. "You sure?"

"N-not my jacket!" Marco acted like he was horrified. "Don't, that's gross!"

"I'm just playing," he laughed and grabbed a napkin so he could clean his face properly.

The two of them laughed about that for a couple of minutes. They were having a pretty good time just talking to each other and making inside jokes about their favourite pizza toppings. Jean never felt so laid back in his life, and he loved just being able to talk to someone like normal friends do. And he didn't even have to drink alcohol to make the conversations anymore lively than they already were.

After a few more moments he looked at their empty plates. "I'll go and throw our trash out, okay?"

Marco nodded and stayed in his seat as he watched Jean get up. "Okay."

Jean looked at him and then turned to throw out the trash. He kept thinking to himself how nice it was to talk to Marco, and he really liked seeing him smile. It was much better than seeing him cower underneath him, because now he was free to be himself. He started to make his way back, but he stopped when looking at Marco.

He noticed that Marco's face looked a little pale, and he was cautiously glancing in the direction of the front counter. He followed his gaze and saw that he was staring at a tall, rather bulky man with a crew cut. Jean was confused on why Marco was acting that way, and he went over to their table.

"Marco?"

"Shh!" Marco tensed as he got up silently.

"What's wrong?" His voice was a little quieter.

Marco started going over to the door. "T-that's my dad," he whispered. "D-don't ask questions, let's just go."

Jean nodded a little and slowly followed him, although he was really confused.

"Marco."

When his name was called, Marco tensed up, very hesitantly turning around. "H-hi, dad."

"What are you doing here?" he muttered. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Uh…" He trailed off. "Y-yeah, about that—"

"And who the hell is this clown?" his dad retorted as he pointed at Jean.

"My name is Jean Kirschtein," he replied for Marco. "You must be his father. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Kirschtein…." He glared slightly as he looked at him up and down. "Marco, why is he wearing your jacket?"

"H-he didn't have his own," Marco stuttered. "H-his car broke down, so I wanted to help him out."

He crossed his arms slightly. "But you were supposed to be at the library at the first place."

"Dad, please…" he stepped back slightly. "Y-you don't want to make a scene here, do you? I will explain everything when I get home, okay?"

Jean was still a little confused, but he watched the two of them. Marco's dad looked really intimidating and could make anyone cower away. But he was using that attitude towards Marco, his own son. Marco was practically cowering away as they spoke, despite how much he seemed to try and hide his fear. It was very evident.

"You'd better be at the house by the time I get home," he snarled and then went back over by the front counter. In that instant, Marco quietly sighed in relief and went out of the parlor with Jean behind him.

He now wanted answers from Marco. He wanted to know what was going on and will not let this pass like nothing happened. Jean grabbed his arm as they went over to the car, causing him to tense up.

"What just happened back there?" Jean asked.

"D-don't touch me," Marco mumbled, and with that request Jean let go. "Nothing happened, Jean."

"Don't give me that," he snapped. "Something is going on, and I'm not going to stop bothering you about it until you tell me."

"T-then you'll just have to keep bothering me." Marco sighed. "Come on, I'm taking you home."

Jean was surprised but now a little more concerned. He followed Marco and went in the passenger seat. He watched the older boy start driving, and he sat back in his seat. They sat in the car in silence. Marco never turned the stereo on.

_What is going on with Marco?_

Jean only spoke to give directions to his house. This went on for the whole ride. However, once Marco pulled into the driveway once he brought Jean home he stopped the car and rested his head on the steering wheel. Jean was nervous for him at this point. He held his breath when Marco then finally talked.

"T-to be honest, I hate that this is the only way to find perfect matches," he mumbled and curled his fingers.

Jean stayed seated. "Why?"

When Marco looked at him, he noticed that his eyes were a little red as tears started forming. "It's bullshit. Sure, once you find your soul mate, it's all great and wonderful. But scientists fail to mention the fact that we are still not immortal. We don't live forever. When two people find each other, what happens when after a little while, one of them is abruptly taken from this world? What if they die too soon? Once that happens, the one that is left is all alone."

He froze as he listened to him. He never thought of it that way. He never even considered that. He wanted to know more about why Marco felt that way.

Before Jean could ask, Marco continued talking. "My parents were happy. They met each other at the military academy after they graduated high school. They enlisted in the Navy together. They had their entire lives planned out. They got married, they had me, and everything to them was perfect."

He felt a little uneasy as he listened to his story, and he wasn't sure if he should stop him or not. Nevertheless, he found himself asking, "So then what happened?"

Marco had more tears in his eyes that were now running down his cheeks and trailing along his freckles. "I-I was eleven. M-my mom was killed while they were fighting overseas. I was so upset, that I had no will to do anything. I stayed back that year because I kept missing school and didn't do my work. I-if I didn't stay back, I would have graduated already. B-but that was only the first wave of the pain."

"'Pain?' What do you mean?"

The taller boy's eyes narrowed slightly as he sniffled. "It's called heartbreak, Jean Kirschtein. It is the worst thing you would ever feel. And according to those scientists, we are supposed to be in the age that is the end of all heartbreak. That's pretty fucking hilarious, because I feel it every day. My father felt it when she died. He was all alone. And over time, he grew bitter and angry. That was the second wave of pain. The third is the one that I still go through now. H-he feels that he has to take his anger out on me in order to satisfy himself. It helps him calm down. He likes seeing me tremble a-and cower, and it takes away his anger and pain."

Jean shifted a little closer, feeling worse for everything he did to him in the past. It was bad enough he was already feeling such pain without him and Reiner picking on him and tormenting him all the time. A dark though crossed his mind, but he didn't want to believe it. So he hesitantly voiced it so that he would know the truth.

"Marco… Does your father hurt you?"

His companion tensed. He avoided eye contact entirely, and Jean bit his lip when seeing him slowly nod. "H-he hurts me with his words. He beats me sometimes, b-but most of the time he just hits me once to shut me up. I-I'm scared at night that he would do something far worse to me, even though he has never done those kinds of things."

Jean found that he was growing a strong hatred towards Marco's father. How dare he hurt Marco like this. Didn't he know how smart he was or how talented he was? Why would he do those things to him? What did he hope to gain?

"Marco…" he whispered. "Marco, I'm so sorry."

"W-why do you care?" he retorted. "Y-you spent our entire lives just adding onto everything my father has been drilling into my head! You just made everything worse for me! I-it's bad enough that I am losing motivation because of assholes like you!"

That really hurt, but Jean deserved that. He was right, but he was trying to change.

"Marco, please. You said you didn't trust me. If you really didn't, then you wouldn't have told me about your father. And here is what I'm going to tell you now. There is no way I can ever make up for what I have done to you in the past, and I don't expect you to forgive me either. But your father is a fucking bastard. He should not be hurting you for his own personal gain. That is sick. I know, I sound like a hypocrite, but I want to change. That's what I am trying to do. I don't want to keep hurting you. I want to help you, Marco."

"Y-you've done enough," he whimpered and curled his fingers into the steering wheel. He shuddered as he then hesitantly glanced at Jean. The two of them did make eye contact, but the pained atmosphere in the room made the warm feelings they felt unnoticeable. Jean finally realized why Marco always looked so sad and hurt. His heart was broken.

Not even a moment passed, and Jean saw that his new friend hid his face in his hands, shivering as he now started to cry. Marco looked more fragile than before, and that was killing him inside. Jean shifted a little closer until the interior of the car that kept them divided stopped him from inching further.

"Marco…?"

Jean wasn't prepared for what happened next as Marco then quickly hugged him. He could tell that he just needed something to hold onto, anything that he could reach out to. So he responded by giving the sobbing boy a hug in return, not minding that his face was now buried into his neck.

"It's okay…" Jean hesitantly whispered to Marco in hopes that he could help comfort him. He rubbed his back slowly. "It will be okay, Marco. I want to help you. Let me do anything I can to make sure that you don't feel this pain anymore. I don't want you to feel so heartbroken over something that you can't control. Please, Marco…."

In response, Marco let out a whimper as he was trying to calm down. He nodded as he was clinging to Jean.

"J-just…" Marco then sniffled as he curled his fingers. "J-just don't hurt my dad. P-please don't."

"Let me just ask you something. Why do you still stay with him?"

Marco hesitantly looked at him. "H-he needs me. I-I don't want to leave him all alone."

"He doesn't need you," he insisted. "He is making you think that you do. Marco, he is too far gone, and there is no guarantee that he will stop hurting you."

"I-I know," he mumbled and hugged Jean still. "B-but he's still my dad, and I love him."

Jean sighed quietly as he kept him close. "I'll tell you what. You have my number. If your dad hurts you, don't hesitate to call me. I will comfort you that way and try and help you through it. However, if he hurts you beyond your limit, and something bad happens to you because of it, I am not holding back. I will be right over and I will take my anger out on your dad and see how he likes it. And I will take you away from that house and help you move out, because at that point he does not deserve to be near you. And that is a promise, Marco."

He saw that Marco looked really hesitant, but after thinking for a moment he nodded hesitantly. "O-okay, Jean."

"Good," he murmured as he rubbed his back gently still. Marco was calmer now.

After a moment of just holding each other like this, Marco reluctantly pulled back. "I-I have to go home. M-my dad will be really mad if I'm not back in time."

Jean nodded and then took off Marco's jacket. It finally stopped raining just a minute ago. "Okay. Be careful, Marco."

"I-I will," he assured him. "I-I'll see you at school on Monday."

He nodded and then got out of the car. He watched Marco wipe his eyes before starting the car and driving away again. Jean sighed quietly. He really hoped that Marco would be okay, but now that he knew better, he was not going to let Marco's father get away with hurting him anymore.

Jean was now going to protect new friend no matter what.


	11. Chapter 10

**This chapter contains some NSFW. Just a head's up. Enjoy it, though. I stayed up until 3 am writing that portion.**

**Review Response**

** FFF - People have their own reasons for having abusive dads in stories. For me, my reason is that it goes along with the plot and gives a reason why Marco feels the way he does about perfect matches. I'm not saying that only dads are abusive either, in case you might be thinking that. However, either way it is a sensitive issue that cannot be taken lightly. I understand that.**

* * *

–Marco's POV—

_Taking deep breaths as he drove, _Marco had the music on pretty loud. He just wanted to clear his mind, and he wanted to stay as calm as possible for when he would have to face his father. He knew he had to tell him the truth. He used work as an excuse to stay out of the house for the day. He didn't want to be home at all.

However, he thought today was a fairly good day. He got to spend the evening with Jean, and much to his surprise, he did have a good time. By the end of the night, Marco had most definitely started to trust Jean, no matter how much he didn't want to.

But what was even worse was that Marco felt a warmth that he couldn't describe, even though they weren't near each other anymore. Sure, his heart wasn't glowing right now, but it still felt warm to him.

_What is this feeling?_

As he pulled into the driveway, he tried shrugging this feeling off. Thankfully, his father wasn't home yet. He got out of the car and quickly went inside, just trying to stay calm.

"It's okay, Marco," he told himself. "Just tell him the truth. That's it."

He continued giving himself a pep talk until he heard the front door open. He saw his father walk in, and he stood there frozen.

"D-dad."

His father glared as he shoved him. "What the fuck is with you, Marco? You were supposed to stay here if you didn't have work today!"

"I-I know," he stuttered as he flinched. "But I just wanted to go out today."

"You were out with Kirschtein the whole day, weren't you?"

"No, I-I swear!" he insisted. "I-it was only for a couple of hours."

"I somehow do not believe you," his father muttered. He grabbed his shoulder and had a rather strong grip on it.

Marco winced but didn't make a move to fight. "I'm telling the truth. I-I would never lie to you. Dad, y-you're hurting me."

After a moment he let go of him. Marco stood there and bit his lip.

"Nothing is going on between you two, is there?" he seethed.

He swallowed thickly. "N-nothing at all. H-he's just a new friend of mine."

He glared at Marco still. "You'd better not be lying about that either. You know what is going to happen if I find out."

"I-I do," he mumbled. "I promise you, n-nothing is going on."

_Only that Jean is plotting to kill you if you hurt me too badly._

Still unconvinced, Marco's father pushed past him and went in his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Marco felt his shoulder slightly and sighed. He decided he should get some sleep, so he went into his own room quietly and got ready for bed.

* * *

_Marco flinched when he was pinned down on the bed. He felt the blood that was heated on his face rush downward as he looked up at the two-toned haired boy above him. Jean smirked slightly and leaned down as he started kissing the freckles along his neck. He shivered and couldn't help but push his hips back into his. They were already stripped bare, so he shuddered at feeling their cocks lightly brush against each other._

_"J-jean," he moaned. "I-I can't wait any longer."_

_He felt the smirk against his neck and blushed more as he felt a hand lightly feeling his ass, gasping quietly._

_"All right," Jean hummed grabbed a bottle of lube, using the liquid to make his fingers slick._

_Marco gasped as he felt the first finger being pushed inside of him, gripping onto the blankets. He just kept getting tenser as he felt him adding fingers. He couldn't handle it, and he whimpered as he felt Jean scissoring him._

_"J-jean," he gasped._

_"Hang in there," he assured him as he was stretching him more._

_Marco was soon rocking his hips back into Jean's hand, trying to get him to go in deeper. He bit his lip and trembled underneath him, whimpering when he pulled his hand back._

_Jean smirked at him as he positioned himself and grabbed onto Marco's hips, angling them so that he would have good access. "Ready, Marco?"_

_He quickly nodded. "J-jean, please…. F-fuck me."_

_Marco's cheeks grew a darker red at hearing Jean chuckle. He closed his eyes and braced himself, gasping loudly as he felt the thickness of Jean's dick piston up into him._

He quickly woke up and sat up in his bed. Marco glanced around and tried catching his breath. He wiped his mouth slightly since he was well aware that he was drooling. He was drenched with sweat, and his eyes were wide.

"W-what the hell did I just…?" Marco shuddered and rubbed his eyes. "M-marco, you're such a pervert…!"

_Why did I just dream of having sex with Jean?_

He felt tears forming in his eyes but quickly wiped them away. He glanced down at himself after pulling the covers away, tensing at seeing that he had a raging hard-on through his pants.

"S-shit," he gasped. "Why?"

His first instinct was the glance at the door. Marco knew that he couldn't ignore his urges now, but he didn't want his father to suddenly walk in on him jerking off, God forbid.

Marco got up and went over to the door. It was already closed, but he locked it before going back over to the bed. He felt so hot, and he took off his clothes self-consciously. He had to get this taken care of, or he would go crazy and stay up all night. He wouldn't look down at his own body though as he sat up straight in the bed. He took a moment before slowly leaning back into his pillow.

He lowered both his hands and ran them along his inner thighs, his breath hitching as he looked up at the ceiling. He felt so dirty right now, but he needed to get this done if he wanted any sleep. He moved one hand to his demanding erection and gasped as he brushed his fingers along it.

"O-oh God," he shivered and tilted his head back.

His hand wrapped around his cock, and he started pumping it slowly as he shivered. His mouth opened up slightly as he was letting out silent gasps. To try and give himself more pleasure, he spread his legs apart more as he rubbed his member faster.

"N-nngh…" He groaned quietly and closed his eyes half-way. He was getting the mental image that he was craving. Instead of seeing his ceiling he saw Jean Kirschtein pinning him down and smirking at him. Marco so desperately wanted him to have his way with him at the moment.

_Why am I thinking this way?_

"J-jean," he shivered and closed his eyes fully as he increased the pace of his hand. "Jean."

He tried keeping his pleasured noises as quiet as possible, and he kept biting his lower lip after making each sound.

"J-jean!" he moaned out as he squeezed his own length. He felt pre-cum making his cock feel slicker as he pumped it. "Ahhn. M-more… P-please!"

He felt a heat coiling in his stomach, getting tighter and tighter as he kept giving his own cock the attention it desperately needed. The entire time, he kept imagining that it was Jean giving him all of this pleasure.

"S-so close," he whimpered as he squeezed his manhood and pumped it with so much force that his wrist was starting to hurt.

Marco gasped loudly and quickly covered his mouth to try and hold back his pleasured cry as he finally reached release, his cum spurting out onto the bed sheets. He panted hard through his nose since he still had his mouth covered, and his body lurched forward. He trembled as he rode out his orgasm by slowing down the pumping motion of his hand.

Afterwards, he laid back down as he breathed heavily. He let go of his now limp cock and kept his eyes closed. He stayed like this for a moment before shakily putting his clothes back on. He looked away from the stain that was now very noticeable on his sheet.

Once his breathing was calm he got up from the bed, unlocking his bedroom door. He still felt really dirty, and he went out of his room silently while making sure he did not disturb his father, who was sleeping across the hall. He sighed and went over to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He hoped that he would feel a little better after he washed his hands, so he kept his head down as he did so. When he looked up at the mirror, that was when he realized that he had been crying. Tears were streaming down his face as he looked at his reflection. He felt so disgusting right now.

_I can't believe I just did that while thinking of Jean._

He didn't understand why he did. He just became friends with Jean, why was he having sexual attractions towards him? This was so wrong on so many levels. However, Marco couldn't help it. He had not had feelings of any kind towards Jean since middle school.

He remembered that in his second year of sixth grade he kept eyeing Jean whenever he saw him when they were in a class together. Back then he did develop an innocent crush on him. He didn't know what it was about him that made him like him. After all, Jean bullied him constantly back in the day, albeit not as physical as he would be come their freshman year.

But that was back then. Now they were seniors, and Marco was technically an adult. So much had changed since the carefree days of sixth grade. However, could things start changing again? After all, Jean and Marco were indeed perfect matches. Maybe this was a sign.

He quickly shook his head at the thought. "N-no. J-jean wouldn't want anything to do with me that way. H-he said so himself so many times."

He quietly walked out of the bathroom and back into his own room. He felt very lethargic from earlier, and he really needed some sleep. Marco went back onto his bed, declaring to himself that he will was his sheets in the morning. It was too early in the morning to do that now.

* * *

"Armin."

Monday morning started off like it normally did. Marco was now sitting next to Armin during homeroom, trying to get his attention.

Armin looked over at his friend. "What, Marco?"

"I… Kind of really need to talk to you." He shifted nervously and looked down.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Keep your voice down," Marco warned as he whispered. "It's about Jean."

Armin raised a brow. "What about him? Did he hurt you?"

"N-no, it's nothing like that," he insisted. "I… W-what I'm trying to say is that I… I-I'm starting to like him."

His friend was quiet for a moment, but he then slowly smiled. "That's all? Marco, it's okay. You two are perfect matches after all, right?"

"We are, but that's not the point," he muttered. "It's not right, Armin. He can't possibly like me back, he's one of the most popular kids in school."

"Well, I don't know," he shrugged and looked at him. "He might change his mine, Marco. He's changing, you know."

"Y-yeah, I know," he sighed, "but he's not changing _that_ much. He wouldn't want to be with me anyways. H-he thinks I'm ugly."

Armin shook his head and sighed quietly. "Marco, please… Keep your options open. You really are such a great guy, and anyone would love to be with you."

Marco shrugged. "If you say so, Armin…."

Once class started, their French teacher was teaching the lesson. Marco had less of a problem paying attention this time. After opening up completely he felt slightly more relaxed knowing that someone knew exactly what he was going through. Sure, Armin knew but he didn't know the extent of it.

On the other side of the room, Eren Jaeger was trying to pay attention. Honestly, he did not know why _he_ was in the class. He sucked at French. Mainly he stayed just to pick on Levi. After a few minutes of hearing Levi start the discussion in French, he smirked and raised his hand.

Levi sighed quietly and looked at Eren. "Oui, Jaeger?"

Eren shifted. "I must say, as intriguing as your voice is, I feel that we all would like it if you spoke in a language that we actually know by heart."

Levi rolled his eyes. "You took a French class. What did you expect?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, maybe something a little more exciting?"

Marco had no idea what then happened as he heard Eren yelp. He glanced over and froze slightly. Levi and Eren must have made perfect eye contact. Because now the French teacher and the student both had brightly glowing hearts. The entire class saw them.

"Are you kidding me?" Eren gasped.

Levi's eyes narrowed and he quickly stepped back. "I waited seventeen years for _this? _Are you serious right now?"

Marco tried his best to stifle his laughter, and he glanced at Armin. "And I thought that _my_ situation was bad."

"See?" Armin smiled. "You're not at a complete loss."

Marco glanced down and smiled slightly. "You're right, I guess."

Levi cleared his throat after sighing heavily as he tried continuing the lesson. Meanwhile, Eren had his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed.

After another few moments, Armin tapped Marco's shoulder. "Hey, what made you realize that you like Jean?" he whispered.

Marco's freckled face grew a deep red as he stayed looking down at his notes and took them. "I-I'm _not_ telling you that."

"Come on, you can tell me," he insisted silently.

"N-nope." He kept his mind clear and took his notes. He definitely did not want to tell Armin that he found out after masturbating and thinking of Jean as he did so. That was too embarrassing. Well, at least he confessed somewhat, so he left it at that. "No way."


End file.
